


A Storm In The North

by Loeka



Series: Of Dragons And Freedom [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fix-It, Mutual Pining, POV Jon Snow, Romance, Season/Series 07, Season/Series 08, Slow Burn, Stark Family Reunion(s) (ASoIaF), also, and it will be ignored with extreme prejudice, but the Starks get the reunion they deserve, it takes a long time to get there, screw canon, season 8 is awful
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-02
Updated: 2019-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-17 11:08:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 27
Words: 118,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14831141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loeka/pseuds/Loeka
Summary: Jon wonders how Sansa will react when he tells her he saw the Pirate Queen and her Dragons.Or, what if Daenerys wasn't interested in the Iron Throne?





	1. Chapter 1

That is a Dragon.

Jon is having trouble thinking beyond this fact. Understandable, given he’s looking at a _Dragon_. A large, living, breathing Dragon. One close enough that it would take but a few steps for him to touch it. Which would result in the loss of his hand, arm really, those are very large teeth. This is assuming the Dragon doesn't simply decide to reduce him to ash instead.

Doesn’t stop him from wanting to touch it. Touch those gleaming black scales and feel with his own hand the heat it radiates, strong enough to be noticeable even with the distance between them. The urge is so great that Jon has to clench his hands to prevent himself from getting killed by giving in to the desire to touch this magnificent creature.

A creature that's looking at him with uncanny intelligence. Those slitted eyes are bright and aware in a way Jon has only ever known Ghost’s to be.

The Dragon’s nostrils flare as it inhales deeply, and Jon swears it's scenting him in particular. More than that, he swears he understands the expression it's wearing, despite the fact that there should be nothing recognizable about its reptilian face.

The Dragon is looking at him with curiosity.

“Who are you?”

The question drags his eyes away from the story made flesh, settling on the woman sitting astride its back instead. He knows who she is of course, the Dragon leaves no doubt as to her identity.

Daenerys Targaryen. The Mad King’s Daughter.

In some ways, she looks like what he expected a Targaryen to look like. Hair so fair as to be the color of sunlight, ethereally fine features, an arrogant tilt to her chin. A cool and remote expression as she looks down on him.

In most ways, she looks nothing like he expected. Her eyes are the color of storm clouds, intense in a way that's at odds with the remoteness of her expression. Her hair is woven through with gold and precious jewels, forming complex braids. Her throat and chest are covered in even more gold, a fortune in necklaces draped around her neck. The jewelry ranges from a thick choker covering her throat to a pendant set with an obscenely large ruby reaching her the top of her stomach.

The display of wealth isn’t unexpected. The amount of it, yes, but not the display itself.

Her being naked is. She wears no clothing aside from a brightly colored coat. It isn't fastened close. The opposite, it hangs wide open, and aside from the gold, her chest is completely bare.

Her chest is littered with scars. A patchwork of jagged lines cover most of her left side, some of which are fairly recent. Her right side is dominated by a deep gash that crosses over her breast. Jon knows enough of scars to be able to see that these were gained in battle.

He knows enough of scars to understand some of them came from wounds that should have killed her.

“Well?”

The demand, impatient in a way the precious one wasn’t, makes him return his gaze to storm grey eyes.

“Jon Snow.”

Hearing his own voice snaps him out of his stupor. He clears his throat and amends his answer to something more polite. Being rude to someone in possession of a Dragon is just asking to be burned to a crisp.

“My name is Jon Snow.”

“King Jon Snow.”

The dazed correction makes him glance at Davos, standing besides him. Davos is staring at the Dragon with equal terror and awe, but then his expression clears. He shakes his head to get rid of the cobwebs clouding his mind and turns his gaze towards Jon.

“King Snow? No, that doesn’t sound right. King Jon?”

Davos trails off and his gaze is drawn back to the Dragon, awe and terror taking over once more. Jon can't blame him for that, his own eyes drawn back to the Dragon and its rider as well. The Dragon is still looking at him with what he swears is curiosity.

Daenerys Targaryen has raised a single dark brow that manages to perfectly convey both the faint she amusement she feels at his admittedly awful introduction, as well as a general lack of interest in the proceedings. Which, given that she was the one who brought her Dragon to land among them without warning, is rather insulting.

She turns to look at Dragonstone Castle, her amusement making way for a distant and closed off expression. It appears the little interest she held in them has faded completely.

“I am Daenerys Stormborn. Harm me or mine, rape anyone, enslave anyone, and I will destroy you.”

Before Jon can even think of how to react to the threat delivered in a chilling matter of fact voice, the Dragon leaps into the air and flies to the castle, Daenerys Targaryen’s hair streaming behind her like a veil of sunlight. They’re joined by the two Dragons who’d been circling overhead, black, white and green weaving through the air with stunning grace. The sight scatters his thoughts all over again.

He is seeing _Dragons_.

“Well. That was interesting.”

Davos' gross understatement makes a flicker of humor join Jon’s befuddlement.

“That’s one way to put it.”

The Dragon carrying Daenerys Targaryen briefly touches down in front of the castle, before leaping back into the air with breathtaking grace.

“What do you suppose she’s doing here?”

Jon hasn’t the faintest idea. Last he heard, Daenerys Targaryen was sailing the coasts of Essos and burning down every slaver ship she could find.

What brought the Pirate Queen and her Dragons to Westeros?

“Doesn’t matter what she’s here for,” he decides, shaking off the last of his shock. He fails to tear his eyes away from the Dragons, though. “We’re here for the dragonglass.”

Whatever the Pirate Queen is here for, it matters not compared to the threat of the Night King. Even if she does have three Dragons.

“Begging your pardon, Your Grace, but if she decides to use those Dragons against us, I’d say the reason she’s here becomes a matter of great importance indeed.”

“You heard her. She won’t harm us if we don’t harm her.”

At least, Jon hopes not. They hold no chance of victory against three Dragons.

“Not quite what I got out of her words,” Davor says, more to himself than anyone else. When Jon looks at him, he sees that Davos is still staring at the Dragons with terror and awe, though the feelings aren’t as strong as before. Looking behind him, Jon sees that the rest of the men are staring at the Dragons with the same expression, though some are giving him the occasional glance.

One of them, Tammer, is glancing at the sea. When Jon follows his line of sight, he understands why.

Over two dozen ships of various sizes, all with blood red sails, are fast approaching. Apparently the Pirate Queen didn’t come to Westeros with her Dragons alone. Jon is blaming the ridiculous assumption that she did on the shock of seeing Dragons.

“Gather your weapons and armor,” he orders, snapping the men out of their stupor. “Be cautious, but don't attack unless attacked first.” He’d like to avoid being burned to death after all.

His command inspires a flurry of activity, men scrambling to put on armor. Jon, still armored and with Longclaw at his side, starts making his way to the shore. The men who’d been on watch, and thus, who hadn’t taken off their armor or weapons, follow him.

Davos follows as well.

“You’re not fool enough to meet a potential enemy unarmed,” Jon says when Davos falls in stride with him.

“Given those Dragons, I figure we’re all fucked anyway if the Dragon Pirates turn out to be enemies.”

Jon can’t argue with that. He truly hopes Daenerys Targaryen wasn’t lying when she claimed she wouldn’t harm them unless they harm her first.

By the time the ships have dropped anchor and rowing boats near the shore, the rest of the men have joined them. Jon is pleased to see none draw their sword, though most do keep a too tight grip on the pommel.

He doesn’t know what to expect from the Pirate Queen’s people. The stories paint them as bloodthirsty cutthroats, yet they also speak of slaves being liberated and given new life. Which tale is truth? Both? Neither?

Even without knowing what to expect, Jon is completely caught off guard by the party coming ashore. Or rather, by one person among them.

“Tyrion Lannister?” What is Tryion Lannister doing with the Pirate Queen's people?

“Jon Snow,” Tyrion greets, equally surprised. “I didn’t expect to find the Bastard of Winterfell in Dragonstone.”

“I didn’t expect the Dwarf of Casterly Rock to be part of the Pirate’s Queen’s retinue.”

A retinue composed of men and women both. The party consists of dozens of people, far more than he and his men can take on without suffering catastrophic loss at best. A fair number of those people are women, all armed as the men are.

Some of Daenerys Targaryen’s people have drawn their weapons. They make no move to use them, though.

The weapons are as varied as everything else about these people. Armor, clothes, finery, age , hair and skin tone. There's nothing uniform about them, their appearance ranging from people that wouldn’t seem out of place with the Free Folk, to people that wouldn’t look out of place among knights. The only thing all share is a distinctive braid, made unique from the others most hold by the gold woven through.

Tyrion wears the same braid. He's also dressed in exotic garbs, has a few braids aside from his golden one, and he's wearing two daggers long enough to work as short swords for him. The sight is more than a little odd.

“Neither did I,” Tyrion says with a smile that's equal parts mocking and self-depreciating. It's easily recognized even with the beard adding years to Tyrion's face. That smile is one Jon remembers seeing often when they traveled to The Wall together. The scar marring half of Tyrion’s face gives it an edge that had been lacking before, though.

“So what brings the Bastard of Winterfell to Dragonstone?” Tyrion asks.

“Jon Snow is King in the North.”

The correction from Davos, polite but unyielding, causes a surge of discomfort as always. He’s a Snow. He isn’t supposed to be nobility, never mind being a King.

Jon resists the urge to say so out loud. Whether or not he likes it, the fact remains that the North chose him to be their King. He doesn’t have time to dispute that and have them argue about who should rule instead.

Not when the Great War is coming.

“You will address him by his proper title.”

“It’s fine, Davos,” he says, unable to help himself. He’ll not deny the position thrust upon him, but neither will he demand others pay homage to it. Not from people who aren’t from the North.

Some of Daenerys Targaryen’s people speak to one another in a language unknown to him. Multiple languages, judging from what he’s hearing. He's fairly certain one of the languages is Valyrian. 

Both of Tyrion’s brows have gone up with surprise, and he looks Jon over with a disbelief Jon wholeheartedly agrees with.

“I see interesting things have been happening while I’ve been gone.”

“You could say that.” Terrible is another word for it. One Jon finds far more suitable.

He’d been so close to saving Rickon.

“Forgive me, but am I correct in assuming you’re Ned Stark’s bastard son?” an older man asks, his hair as white as snow and his armor more fit for a knight than a pirate. 

“I am,” Jon confirms and gives Davos a warning look when he moves to correct the man’s address of him. Being asked if he’s a bastard isn’t an insult. It’s merely asking for the truth.

The man looks him over as Tyrion did, though unlike Tyrion, it’s not with disbelief. Instead the man seems to be searching for something.

Whatever he’s searching for, he finds it, for he nods with approval.

“You have your father’s bearing.”

The way he says it makes it clear this is meant to be a compliment. More importantly, it makes clear this man knew his father.

“You say that as though you knew him,” Jon says, wanting to know who this man is.

“I did,” the man confirms. “My name is Barristan Selmy.”

Jon feels his eyes widen with shock and hears his men shift behind him, murmurs rising. Jon can't blame them for losing discipline in face of the revelation of who this man is.

“Your father was the most honorable man I’ve had the fortune of knowing. His death was a tragedy that shouldn’t have happened.”

“No, it shouldn’t have,” Jon returns in a cutting voice, his shock making way for cold anger. His father always spoke highly of Barristan the Bold.

Barristan the Bold stood by and did nothing while his father was executed.

Barristan Selmy bows his head, showing a regret he has no right to. But Jon isn’t here to make enemies, and so he swallows the words that wish to break free.

This is made easy to accomplish by a thunderous roar splitting the air, making him reach for Longclaw on instinct while his eyes snap towards the castle. He's just in time to see the black Dragon lift off again, great wings effortlessly carrying it through the sky. The other two join it as it approaches them, and once again, Jon finds he cannot tear his eyes away from the stories made flesh.

Once again, Daenerys Targaryen is seated on the black Dragon, her bright hair becoming visible as it nears.

The Dragon lands down the beach, near enough for the sand disturbed by its beating wings to hit Jon in the face. Daenerys Targaryen nimbly leaps off the Dragon’s back and the Dragon launches itself back into the air. Jon swears the Dragon looks at him with curiosity as it passes overhead. So do the other two for that matter.

His gaze is drawn to Daenerys Targaryen as she strides towards them. She moves as though nothing in the world can stand in her way. No longer hidden by her Dragon, Jon can now see the armored boots she wears, coming up to her knees and thick enough to lessen the impact of most blades. They’re tipped with golden plates that will ensure any kick she delivers will land with brutal force.

The boots are the only armor she wears. Aside from her hands, perhaps. They’re adorned with golden jewelry as well, each finger containing at least one ring. Those rings are thick enough to break a man’s nose or jaw should she punch him. As for weapons, she wears two short swords strapped to her side. Jon has no doubt she knows how to use them. Even ignoring her scars or the strength contained within clearly defined muscles, she moves with the distinctive tread of someone experienced in the art of fighting.

Jon files all of these facts away, but he’ll admit to being distracted by the sheer amount of skin Daenerys Targaryen has on display. Brightly colored silk is wrapped low around her hips in what Jon supposes is meant to be a skirt, though he’s never seen one such as this. It’s asymmetrical, one side a semblance of a proper length and the other barely covering her thigh. Not that the side that should be decent is any better. The silk is blown away by the wind, revealing as much skin as shown by her other leg. The wind also blows her coat wide open, leaving her chest completely uncovered. Jon is trying not to stare, he really is, but Daenerys Targaryen is a beautiful woman and most of her body is on full display. Her scars only make it even harder to look away.

Across her stomach, there's a thick and jagged line. One that can only have come from being cut open in the most brutal of ways.

At least Daenerys Targaryen doesn’t seem to mind his rudeness, still striding forward with what Jon can't decide is arrogance or confidence. She doesn't seem to be aware of her own state of undress in any way.

“My lady,” Barristan Selmy greets as she nears, and when Jon manages to tear his eyes away from Daenerys Targaryen long enough to glance at him, he sees Barristan Selmy look at her with deference and respect. His eyes are firmly locked onto her own, never straying down. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

Daenerys Targaryen looks at the castle with a vaguely disappointed expression, seemingly unaware of the fact that her movement has put her chest on even more prominent display. Jon has seen woman display themselves on purpose while pretending it was a coincidence, but that isn’t how Daenerys Targaryen holds herself. Her lack of awareness seems genuine.

“Not yet,” she replies, before she looks at Jon and raising a remarkably expressive brow. It shows both her surprise at his presence here, as well as a curiosity that had been lacking before. “I see you’ve not fled in terror, Jon Snow.”

“So you’ve met,” Tyrion says in a voice that can’t decide between wry amusement and tired resignation. There’s a fair amount of exasperation as well, though Jon doesn’t know what expression Tyrion is wearing. Now that Daenerys Targaryen is looking at him with those storm grey eyes, Jon is having an even harder time looking away from her. His only saving grace is that he’s now capable of focusing on her face instead of anywhere lower. “A warning would’ve been nice,” Tyrion finishes in the same tone.

“I warned them what will happen should they cross me,” the Pirate Queen counters without looking away from him, her voice as matter of fact as when she threatened to destroy them.

“Ah, well, that makes everything all right then.”

Tyrion's voice is even more resigned, but when Jon manages to tear his eyes away from Daenerys Targaryen, he sees that the look Tyrion is giving her is fond.

“What are your plans, Captain?” an unknown voice asks, drawing his gaze away from Tyrion to look at the woman who’d spoken. She’s dressed in a sturdy dress that's as brightly colored as the little Daenerys Targaryen wears, and her hair is a wild mess of curls. Several daggers hang from her belt.

Her expression is serene and her posture is composed. The only thing it reveals is that Daenerys Targaryen holds her full attention. Jon is fairly certain he and his men could burst into flames and this woman wouldn’t react in any way.

“Are you slavers or rapists?”

Daenerys Targaryen’s question draws his full attention back to her.

“No,” Jon replies, insulted at the very notion. What kind of people does she think they are?

“Will you harm me or mine?”

“Not unless you harm us first.”

His answer causes some of her people to laugh and talk to one another in a mixture of languages, but Jon is far more focused on the slow smile Daenerys Targaryen gains. There is a wildness to that smile, a hint of something feral. Something that reminds him of her Dragons.

Daenerys Targaryen releases him from the intensity of her gaze and looks at her people.

“In that case, we party!”

Wild cheering makes him reach for Longclaw on instinct, his eyes snapping to the source of the noise. The sight that greets him is the men dressed in furs hollering like the barbarians they appear to be, waving their curved swords through the air with abandon. The remainder of her people are divided between more subdued pleasure or an utter lack of reaction.

Daenerys Targaryen strides forward, her people following her as she makes her way to the rowing boats. Tyrion gives him a wry grin and a shrug that clearly says _what can you do_ , before he follows after her. Barristan Selmy does the same after inclining his head in farewell.

As quickly as they had appeared, the Pirate Queen and her people are gone again.

Jon is unsure of what just happened.

“I think that went well.”

Davos' cheerful declaration makes a soft snort escape him, involuntary humor rising at the absurdity of it all.

“I suppose it did,” he agrees, his eyes drawn up to the Dragons still gracefully weaving through the air. No blood was spilled, none were burnt to a crisp, and the Pirate Queen seems to hold no interest in changing that state of affairs. A rousing success on all accounts, really.

“So what’s next, Your Grace?”

“We return to mining the dragonglass,” Jon replies without hesitation. They’ve wasted enough time as it is.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” Davos says in the particular polite tone that means he thinks Jon is being an idiot. His pointed glance at the Dragons makes clear what makes him think so this time. Hypocritical, given that Davos came to the beach unarmed exactly because he didn't think they stood any chance against Dragons. Even ignoring that.

“She seems to hold no interest in us, and she claims she won't initiate hostilities unless provoked. We go back to mining the dragonglass.”

With a watch set up of course, but that would be necessary even without the Pirate Queen’s presence. They're in enemy territory after all. Which is why they need to hurry. Every moment they remain here is another moment in danger.

The dragonglass is worth it.

With a last look at the Pirate Queen, her hair making her easy to spot even with the distance the boats are rapidly gaining, Jon turns around and goes back to work. He'll not deny to being curious as to why Daenerys Targaryen is here, but as long as she doesn’t interfere in his business, he’ll not interfere in hers.

Yet despite the fact that being distracted is the last thing he can afford right now, Jon can't stop himself from looking at the Dragons dancing through the sky.

He wonders how Sansa will react when he tells her he saw the Pirate Queen and her Dragons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted a fic with pirate!Daenerys, and so pirate!Daenerys is what I'm writing. Well, I started rewriting Dany's story from season 1, and then I said screw it because I really wanted her to meet Jon in her all her pirate queen glory. That's going to take far too long if I have to write down how she became a pirate in the first place. This is the result of my impatience.


	2. Chapter 2

Daenerys Targaryen continues to be distracting. More specifically, the party she throws is distracting. Jon had assumed she and her people would celebrate on their ships, but this turns out not to be the case. Instead her Dragons carry nets filled with crates, boxes and barrels onto the beach, while the infamous Dragon Pirates, numbering in hundreds, arrive ashore by rowing boats. They also bring with them a dozen of live horses of all things.

The Dragon Pirates waste no time in setting up camp, building tents and fires with a swiftness that shows they've done this many times before. After preparing food and distributing what Jon assumes to be alcohol, drums start filling the air, accompanied by flutes and singing. Hollering really, but the rhythm the voices follow reveals this to be music. If anyone on the Isle had been unaware of their arrival before, they know about them now.

Part of Jon is curious as to the festivities going on. Most of him is annoyed by the distraction it forms. The music doesn't penetrate the deeper parts of the caves, but every time they bring out dragonglass, they're confronted by celebrations that only seem to grow more exuberant as time passes.

Jon ensures the men continue their work, but when evening falls, he allows those who wish to go investigate the festivities. Not the wisest choice of action, perhaps, but his men have been working without pause for over a fortnight. They deserve a night off.

As for the possibility of the festivities drawing the attention of Cersei's forces, well. There's some advantage to having three Dragons nearby. Not that Jon believes the Pirate Queen will protect them, but given the threat she delivered within moments of meeting them, he also doesn't doubt she'll react with lethal force should Cersei's men attempt to attack her or hers. Or even should Cersei's men try to make her leave, which is the bare minimum of what Cersei would demand of them. Daenerys Targaryen, by virtue of blood alone, presents yet another threat to Cersei's claim on the Iron Throne.

Jon wonders if that is the reason Daenerys Targaryen came to Westeros. Does she wish to claim her birthright? He hopes not. The Seven Kingdoms are divided enough as it is, easy prey for the Night King and his army. Having yet another player join the Game of Thrones, as Sansa calls it, would leave them even more vulnerable than they already are.

Jon accompanies his men when they go to investigate the festivities. He trusts them, but he doesn't trust the Pirate Queen and her people. While they've shown no true hostility, they're strangers with a reputation for mayhem and murder. He'll not put his men at risk by sending them into the unknown alone.

As it turns out, he need not have worried. The moment they arrive, his men are invited to join with great enthusiasm. Jon demands further information first of course, but he is assured by various people that as long as they don't throw the first punch and respect any rejection given to them, whether for dancing, sparring, or something more intimate, they will find no enemies here. Jon might not trust these people, but given their lack of hostilities until now, he's willing to give them the benefit of the doubt.

After warning his men not to consume any spirits, he allows them to join the festivities. Most do so with equal parts excitement and bewilderment. Jon understands the reaction. The only people he knows who party with an abandon as wild as this are the Free Folk, and even the Free Folk aren't as shameless as these people. Not all are exuberant, there are spots of calm among the festivities. But overall, it seems as though every rule of civility has been abandoned.

Jon does his best to avoid looking at the people making love out in the open without a single care for who can see them. This task is made harder by there being couplings that consist of more than two people. The weather might not allow them to undress, but it's more than clear what they're doing.

Jon distracts himself by examining the only group of people not participating in the festivities in any way. Soldiers, keeping watch while everyone around them parties. They're not the only ones keeping watch but the soldiers stand out by virtue of their sheer discipline. None fidgets even the slightest bit, to the point they seem more like statues than men. Even when horses thunder by close enough to graze them, not one so much as twitches. Most are wearing the same kind of armor, and all are armed with sword and shield.

The soldiers aren't the only distinct group among the Dragon Pirates. While they seemed to dress with no rhyme or reason when he first saw them, seeing them in greater number reveals that this is not the case. Aside from the soldiers, the men riding horses are the most distinctive, dressed in furs and carrying whips and those curved swords. They're the smallest group among the people by far, numbering only fourteen. As many as there are horses in fact. There are more women dressed in the same style of fur however, and these women are the ones dancing with the most abandon.

The rest of the pirates wear more varied clothing, different styles of flowing robes, or exotic tunics and breeches. There are distinctive appearances among them as well, flowing robes or skin tight tunics, vibrant colors or muted shades. But he cannot divide them by behavior as he can the soldiers and the people in furs.

People leave and join the dancing at their own leisure. Those not dancing disappear into tents, wander around, or gather in groups both small and large. Jon ignores the groups involved in intimate activities, but others are sharing food, drinks and laughter. No different from people you'd find at any kind of celebration.

Then there are the groups where none touch at all. Whenever someone joins these groups, they're careful to keep at least an arm's length from any other.

The soldiers form a perimeter around the festivities, though some of them have taken up position closer to the center. More specifically, they've taken up position near Jon's own men. Not nearby enough to give cause for alarm, but it's clear they're being kept under watch. Not the most comforting of situations, but it's not like Jon would've done any different in their place.

The soldiers aren't the only ones keeping watch, others are doing so as as well. Unlike the soldiers, they also fidget, talk to other people, and join the festivities whenever they so choose. A fair number chooses to do so only when another comes to stand guard in their place. Even without adding in those keeping obvious watch, most if not all of the pirates are at least partially on guard. They examine their surroundings with habitual frequency. That, more than anything else, reveals just how dangerous these people are.

Or rather, how dangerous they could be. There are a few fights happening, true, but the lack of bladed weapons and the amicable way they end reveal them for the spars they are. Brutal spars, but spars nonetheless.

None harm his men. The opposite, they welcome them with open arms. The closest thing he sees to hostility is when one of his men, Connas, moves to dance with a woman all others are noticeably keeping their distance from. There are a fair number of dancers like that, surrounded by deliberate empty space. An unspoken but clear boundary.

It's a boundary Connas tries to ignore. When he does, those nearest immediately draw their weapons. By the time Jon arrives, Connas is being subjected to a biting speech on  _not_ taking what isn't offered, the threat of violence thick in the air.

Jon is unsure whether Daenerys Targaryen being here would make things better or worse. She's been joining and leaving the festivities at random, her Black Dragon carrying her away whenever she so desires. Her current absence means she can't order her people to stand down.

She can't order them to attack either.

To his relief, Jon manages to diffuse the situation without too much trouble. First by reminding Connas that they're guests here and they _will_ respect the rules of hospitality, then by offering the pirates to take their leave from them. He has no interest in starting a fight they cannot win.

Fortunately, the apology is enough to mollify their hosts, and they and invite them to stay, though not before giving a final warning on respecting people's rejections. Apparently these rejections include unspoken ones.

Jon wavers on whether to remain or not, for this incident has shown just how easily things could turn violent. But his men wish to stay, even understanding the risks. Given none have imbued in spirits, Jon is willing to trust their judgement.

His trust is not misplaced. No further trouble occurs. Now, his men dance, talk and laugh. Even Davos, who'd been keeping as careful a watch over the men as Jon had after the incident with Connas, has relaxed again. Currently, he's in an animated discussion with over half a dozen people or so.

Tyrion wanders over to him, a flask of alcohol in hand and a slight unsteadiness to his gait. The unsteadiness goes beyond what the sandy terrain should cause. From what Jon remembers of him, this means Tyrion is roaring drunk.

"Not interested in joining?" Tyrion asks, his voice steady as always. Tyrion never seems to lose any eloquence of speech no matter how besotted.

"Not really," Jon answers without looking away from his men. The festivities are spread out but his men are wise enough to remain at least somewhat close together, allowing Jon to keep easy watch over them.

"Still cheerful as ever, I see."

"Not much to be cheerful about." Sansa being safe and unharmed is about the only thing he can think of. True, Littlefinger is with her, but Jon gave Ghost firm instructions to rip out his throat should he threaten Sansa in any way. Same if anyone else threatens her.

Tyrion shakes his head with a wry smile.

"So, Jon Snow. How does one go from being a bastard recruit of the Nightwatch to being King in the North?"

Jon grimaces and resists the urge to rub at his chest, Tyrion's words causing his scars to flare with phantom pain.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Not that Jon is planning on telling him.

"I've been sailing with the Mother of Dragons for, oh, almost two years now? You'd be amazed at what I'd be willing to believe."

Under any other circumstances Jon would say Tyrion is merely telling him what he wishes to hear in order to get him to spill the truth. As it is, Jon is inclined to believe him. Dragons are enough to change anyone's mind on what is and isn't possible.

Doesn't mean he's willing to relive the betrayal of his Brothers by telling Tyrion about it.

"Would you believe the dead walk?" he asks instead. The question catches Tyrion off guard as expected, but Jon is pleasantly surprised to see he isn't dismissing it out of hand. Instead he looks at Jon as though gauging how serious he is.

There's nothing Jon is more serious about.

"The dead," Tyrion repeats slowly, still seeming unable to decide whether Jon is joking or not. It's one of the most refreshing reactions Jon has ever gotten. "As in, the monsters The Wall supposedly protects us from?"

"There's nothing supposed about it. The dead are real and they're coming." Soon.

Tyrion stays silent for several long moments, his expression unreadable. Then he takes a long drink from his flask.

"If you'd told me this even a year ago, I would've thought you mad."

That draws Jon's full attention. He's so used to people dismissing the dead as a mere fable even after he's spend hours arguing about it, that hearing something close to acceptance after merely stating facts is enough to make disbelief and hope rise.

The disbelief is stronger than the hope.

"You believe me?"

Yes, Dragons are enough to make anyone reconsider what is and isn't possible, but Tyrion believes him? No arguing required, no proof demanded? Nothing needed but his word?

"Let's just say I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

That's more than any but the Free Folk and his Brothers have ever given him.

It makes him look at these people in a new light. Before, he saw only potential enemies.

He sees potential allies now. If he can convince the Pirate Queen that the dead are real, if he can convince her to join them and lend then the support of her Dragons, well. That would alter the odds they're facing now.

It might give them a true chance at survival.

As if in response to his thoughts, the music is drowned out by a thunderous roar, making him reach for Longclaw on instinct even though he's heard this many times now. The Black Dragon seems to enjoy making an entrance.

The Dragon darts down the sand, the light of the fires gleaming off scales the color of the night. As Daenerys Targaryen leaps off its back, it moves its head around, bright eyes examining its surroundings.

Those eyes stop moving when they land on Jon, yet again showing a curiosity Jon cannot convince himself he is imagining. Then the Dragon leaps back into the air, the fires flaring high from the force generated by its beating wings. Even though Jon can make out no more than the most fleeting of shadows against the stars, he still can't tear his eyes away from it.

"I'd say you get used to them," Tyrion says in a wry voice, drawing his gaze back down, "but you never quite do."

No, Jon can't imagine anyone ever getting used to Dragons. Aside from Daenerys Targaryen, perhaps.

Jon looks at her as she joins the dancers with wild abandon. He knows it's nothing but a figment of his imagination, she's too far away to hear over the music filling the air, but he swears he can hear her laugh.

Daenerys Targaryen isn't wearing her coat. Jon tries and fails not to stare as her movements makes parts of her bounce in incredibly distracting ways.

"You never quite get used to her either."

Jon fights the embarrassment that rises, Tyrion's remark revealing just how blatant his staring apparently is. The only bright side to his discomfort is that it allows him to tear his eyes away from Daenerys Targaryen, looking down at Tyrion instead.

Tyrion is giving him a smile as mocking as it is understanding.

"How did you come to join her?" Jon asks, curious. The Pirate Queen's crew is about the last place he ever expected to find Tyrion. Or rather, it would've been if Jon had the time to spare to contemplate what had become of him.

"The same way most do. I had the misfortune of being sold into slavery, and the good fortune of crossing paths with the Breaker of Chains while being transported by sea."

"She freed you," Jon says, surprised by the realization. He supposes he shouldn't be, the Pirate Queen is known for many things, among which is her burning hatred for any and all forms of slavery. Freeing Tyrion, even if he is a Lannister, fits with what Jon has heard of her.

What he doesn't understand is why she allowed Tyrion to remain. Or why Tyrion himself chose to remain.

"Why did you decide to remain with her?" he asks. Tyrion's smile becomes self-depreciating.

"It's not as though I had anywhere else to go."

No, Jon supposes he didn't.

Returning his gaze to the festivities, Jon accounts for his men and ensures none are in danger. Then, inevitably, his eyes are drawn to Daenerys Targaryen. The light of the fires has turned her hair into a halo as bright as the gold she wears, put on captivating display as she spins around with wild abandon.

"What is she doing here?" he asks Tyrion, both out of curiosity and necessity. Depending on the answer, she might yet turn out to be an enemy.

"Looking for an answer."

Jon gives Tyrion an unimpressed look, in no mood to play the games of wits Tyrion is so fond of. Tyrion replies with a shameless shrug.

"You can always ask her yourself if you want to know more."

Jon grimaces, not appeased by Tyrion's answer. Though it is true it would be best to ask the Pirate Queen directly. He needs to better understand her before asking for an alliance. Even so.

"Has she come to claim the Iron Throne?" If she has, any hope of an alliance is lost. His people would renounce him as quickly as they'd embraced him if he were to even seem bending the knee to the Mad King's Daughter.

"Fortunately for you, she hasn't."

"Fortunate for me," Jon repeats in a flat voice, demanding Tyrion elaborates on what he can only call a threat. An amicable one, but still a threat.

Jon is so tired of facing threats.

Tyrion replies with a long and unreadable look. One that causes true wariness to rise.

Tyrion's words weren't a threat. They were a warning.

"You haven't heard yet."

"Heard what?" Jon demands while accounting for his men and deciding on the best route by which to escape by.

"She burned down Slaver's Bay."

Tyrion's voice, empty in the way only unspeakable horror can cause, draws his gaze back to him.

Tyrion looks up at him with eyes as haunted as those that saw the destruction of Hardhome.

"Three great Cities, each a nation onto themselves, and she razed them to the ground."

It's the way Tyrion says it, even more than the words itself, that causes answering horror to rise. Jon never paid much attention to the lessons pertaining to the geography of Essos, but Tyrion's words make him recall where he knows the name Slaver's Bay from. It's the heart of the slave trade in Essos, fueled by three great coastal cities.

Each of those cities is the size of King's Landing. One of them, Meereen he recalls, is said to be even bigger.

And Daenerys Targaryen destroyed them.

Tyrion averts his eyes as though he can no longer bear to look at him, a faint but noticeable tremor running through his hands.

"Whatever you're imagining, I assure you, it was worse."

Tyrion follows his statement with a deep drink from his flask, another tremor running through him. Jon returns his gaze towards Daenerys Targaryen. He does so just in time to see her pull one of her people into a dance. She looks happy. Carefree. Almost innocent even with her state of undress.

She doesn't look like a woman who'd burn down entire cities.

"A word of advice, Jon. Don't anger her. She'll destroy all you hold dear if you do."

"Is that why she did it? Anger?" he asks in a voice carefully void of judgement. While this information does make him strongly reconsider approaching the Pirate Queen for help, her Dragons present a resource too valuable to dismiss out of hand. He needs further information. Needs to determine for himself whether or not Daenerys Targaryen is as mad as her father.

"A Dragon's wrath is a terrible thing to behold."

Tyrion's words are not helping his resolve to determine her sanity for himself.

"And yet you remain with her," Jon says, once more careful to keep judgement from his voice.

"And yet I remain with her," Tyrion agrees while looking towards Daenerys Targaryen with a distant expression. His free hand comes up to touch his golden braid in what is clearly an unconscious gesture. "Sometimes I wonder why I do."

Tyrion's eyes clear and he gives his drink a pensive look.

"I seem to have hit the maudlin stage of being drunk. If you'll excuse me, I'm going to have my hair braided and lament my life's choices."

He gives Jon the familiar part mocking, part self-depreciating smile, but there's a gravity to his expression that reveals whatever he's about to say is important.

"Come find me when I'm sober, Your Grace. We have much to talk about."

With a nod of farewell, Tyrion wanders off to a group with people draped all over one another. For a moment Jon wonders with incredulity if Tyrion is planning on becoming intimate right out in the open, but no, that's not what happens. When Tyrion sprawls down among them, a man starts braiding his hair. When Jon dares to examine the group a little closer, he finds that all others are doing the same. They really are doing nothing more than braiding each other's hair.

He's fairly certain the activities of the group behind them aren't as innocent, though.

Jon eyes are drawn back to Daenerys Targaryen, Tyrion's warning echoing through his mind. On one hand, he feels a hope he hasn't felt in a long time. The mere notion of Dragons joining their side is enough to make his breath catch.

On the other hand, the one who controls those Dragons might be mad.

As though to emphasize this thought, Daenerys Targaryen jumps into one of the fires. Jon is already moving forward when she spins out of it, her hair a bright halo and her head thrown back with laughter. She appears to be unharmed. And her people seem wholly unconcerned by Daenerys Targaryen  _jumping into a fire_.

Jon stops moving and wills his racing heart to slow down, absently noting a few of his men doing the same. He's heard the rumors of the Pirate Queen being immune to fire, but he thought them to be mere tales. Apparently not. If those rumors are true, what others are as well?

Is the rumor of her being as mad as her father true?

Daenerys Targaryen's eyes catch his own and her wild grin turns mischievous. With a running leap, she jumps into another fire, causing a rain of sparks and a few cheers from those watching. When she jumps out, her skirt, which had already shrunk in size by her previous meeting with the flames, has disappeared completely. Now she wears nothing but boots, swords and jewels.

Neither Daenerys Targaryen nor her people seem to find this worth any notice.

With great effort, Jon manages to tear his eyes away from the woman who seems to think clothes are optional. His men share his trouble, most staring openly at the woman who dances as though she's fully covered. Jon has resolved to reserve judgement until he's had the chance to speak with the Pirate Queen himself, he truly has, but the way she's acting is making it hard not to question her sanity. Even without adding in Tyrion words, Jon finds himself expecting the worst. He hopes Daenerys Targaryen will prove those expectations wrong.

He's fairly certain she won't.


	3. Chapter 3

Daenerys Targaryen does not prove his expectations wrong.

She doesn’t prove them right either.

When morning comes, Jon informs Davos of his intention to ask the Pirate Queen for aid in their fight against the dead. To his surprise, while Davos does warn him to be cautious, he approves of his plan.

“No harm in asking, and you’d have to be an idiot to pass up the chance to get the aid of Dragons. Just be careful, Your Grace. People reflect those they follow, and while the Pirate Queen's people are a friendly bunch, the stories of their ruthlessness are no exaggeration.”

With those confidence inspiring words, Jon sets out to find the Pirate Queen. Fortunately, it’s easy to deduce her location. The Green and White Dragon are leisurely flying over the ocean, but the Black Dragon has made itself home on one of the towers of Dragonstone Castle. Jon is willing to bet good money on Daenerys Targaryen being inside.

He makes his way to the castle, stopping only when the Green Dragon dives into the ocean without stunning grace and speed. Jon thinks it might be hunting at first, but no. The Dragon does nothing but swim around. He would even go so far to say it's _frolicking_ , splashing water around with its wings and tail. This impression is confirmed as truth when the White Dragon joins it in the water and they engage in what Jon can only call mock battle, playfully swiping at one another and attempting to pull each other below the water’s surface.

He's seeing Dragons fool around like puppies. Sansa will never believe him when he tells her.

With any luck, she’ll be able to see for herself.

But then, when has fortune ever favored Jon?

Jon is forced to halt his approach again when he nears Dragonstone’s entrance. The Black Dragon lets out what is already becoming a familiar roar and leaps off the tower, landing in front of him with enough force to make the earth tremble. Or perhaps the feeling is caused by his heart leaping into his throat, awe and fear mingling together as the Dragon brings its head right in front of him.

The awe is a lot stronger than the fear. Even so, those are _very_ large teeth. Teeth that are put on magnificent display when the Dragon opens its mouth, its tongue flicking out in a way that reminds him of lizards tasting the air. Jon is convinced the Dragon is tasting him in particular.

These thoughts pass through his mind in a haze. Jon is more focused on pulling off his glove and reaching for the story made flesh. A small part is yelling at him for being a suicidal fool because he's about to touch a _Dragon_ and it will undoubtedly be the last thing he ever does.

The madness that seems to have taken hold of him insists there's no better way to spend his final moments.

Then he’s touching the Dragon and everything else falls away. Nothing exists beyond the fire beneath his palm, the living flames barely contained and he always thought the stories of Dragons were exaggerations but they aren’t, oh, how they aren’t.

Beneath his palm there is Magic. It’s like touching a heart tree except for all the ways it’s not. This isn’t a whisper, isn’t a power so subtle it requires effort to grasp even a hint of its vastness. This is an inferno, bright and fierce an all consuming. A fire that has no end, a force of nature that can't ever be contained.

It calls to him as nothing ever has.

The Dragon lets out a great breath that causes hot air to wash over him, the heat almost painful in its intensity. Then it leaps into the air and settles down the same tower as before. Jon stares up at it with a racing heart, still dazed from what he just felt. He clenches the hand that was touching Magic but a moment before, skin still warm from the fire made flesh.

The Dragon is paying no more attention him. Its eyes are closed and it's spread out its wings as much as its position allows. The tip of its tail swings lazily back and forth.

The Dragon looks like a cat bathing in the sun.

The absurdity of that thought is enough to pull Jon out of his stupor. Gathering his wits, he puts his glove back on and chides himself for his unbelievably foolish behavior. He’s incredibly fortunate the Dragon didn’t decide to eat him.

With a last look at the Black Dragon, who still gives off the impression of a cat bathing in the sun even with the return of rational thought, Jon enters the castle. The building is as foreboding as when he’d first arrived, cold stone bearing down on him. Not a place he’d prefer to live if given the choice.

He decides to start his search for Daenerys Targaryen in the throne room. The room turns out to be empty, but the passageway behind the throne is open.

Jon finds Daenerys Targaryen standing over the Painted Table, a ringed hand trailing along the Eastern shore. She’s put on another colorful skirt but still wears no coat. When Jon manages to tear his eyes away from the parts of her he really shouldn’t be looking at, he finds that Daenerys Targaryen lacks the exuberance she exhibited yesterday. Instead she's pensive, solemn even. Her eyes follow the path her hand trails along the coast.

Her hand halts on King’s Landing.

“How many people live in King’s Landing?”

Jon stills at the unexpected question. While he’d made no move to keep his approach hidden, he’d assumed Daenerys Targaryen to be too lost in thought to have noticed his arrival. She’d given no reaction to his presence after all.

Perhaps she believes him to be someone else?

“I’ve heard the city is home to over half a million souls,” he replies. Judging from Daenerys Targaryen’s continuing lack of reaction, he was wrong in assuming she thought him to be someone else.

“Shouldn’t a King know how many people are under his rule?” she asks with vague amusement, but her eyes remain locked onto King’s Landing.

“I know how many people the North holds.”

Not enough to defeat the dead.

Daenerys Targaryen acknowledges his words with a meaningless hum, her attention never straying from the map. Tyrion said she wasn’t interested in the Iron Throne, but seeing her focus on King’s Landing like this...

“Are you planning to claim the Iron Throne?” Try to claim, at least.

Daenerys Targaryen lifts her gaze, storm grey eyes meeting his own. Her expression is closed off in a way that makes him shift his footing to a more battle ready stance, prepared for the situation to turn hostile. It’s instinct more than anything else that makes him react like this. He doesn’t truly believe she’ll attack him.

He'd be a fool not to prepare for the possibility of it happening.

Daenerys Targaryen shifts her own footing in kind, but it’s clear her reaction is an unconscious one. She returns her gaze to King’s Landing.

“...No. Reclaiming the Seven Kingdoms was my brother’s dream.”

She holds a different one. The question is, what is her dream?

Or rather, does her dream pose a threat to the North?

Daenerys Targaryen lifts her hand from King’s Landing and strides towards him. Halting next to him, she leans against the table, close enough to force Jon to tilt his head down to meet her eyes. Despite his best efforts, he fails to keep his eyes from straying down further.

How is she not cold walking around like this?

When he manages to drag his gaze away from her bare skin and meet her eyes again, he finds that Daenerys Targaryen’s lips have quirked up in a faint smile, amusement brightening the storm of her eyes. She’s aware of the effect her state of undress has on people. She simply doesn’t care. Neither does she use her appearance as a weapon. There's nothing purposely seductive about her stance. The opposite, now that Jon has managed to shake off most of the distraction posed by her bare skin, he realizes she’s positioned herself so she can kick out his knee. Jon shifts his weight so he’ll be able to block without losing his balance.

Daenerys Targaryen’s smile grows.

“Tell me about yourself, Jon Snow, King in the North,” she orders while hopping onto the table. The change in position means she’ll be able to kick his chest with both her feet. While his armor would catch the worst of the blow, she'd still send him crashing to the floor if she used both her feet.

“Not much to tell,” he says while taking a step back. Getting out of her reach. Her kick would still land, but she won’t have the leverage needed to throw him to the floor. He could take another step back and leave her range completely, but this way he can grab her legs and drag her off the table. That would end the fight before it can turn lethal.

“I highly doubt that,” she returns while lifting a leg and placing her foot on the edge of the table. Ready to lunge at him instead of kicking him.

Her raised leg puts her in a truly indecent position. The only thing protecting her modesty is the silk pooling between her thighs.

“I’m not here to fight you,” he says while changing his footing so he can throw her over his shoulder should she lunge for him.

Daenerys Targaryen raises a brow as amused as it is pointed, the glance she gives to his feet an unnecessary addition to her silent message. She also shifts her center of gravity so she’ll be able to grab his cloak in her lunge, preventing him from throwing her over his shoulder without her using the fabric against him.

With great reluctance, Jon forces himself to assume his previous position instead of rolling his shoulders to get his cloak out of the way. It leaves him uncomfortably open to attack, but someone has to make the first move to end the near battle they’ve somehow ended up in. He meant it when he said he isn’t here to fight her.

Doesn’t mean he won’t defend himself.

Daenerys Targaryen gains a grin that's both amused and containing a little too many teeth, before she lets her leg fall open. Lowering her guard and showing she holds no intention to attack him either. For now at least.

Her new position is even more indecent than her previous one. She sits as a boy in breeches would, except she's a woman whose only articles of clothing consists of a skirt more suited as an undergarment.

She's a woman with remarkably firm thighs. The left of which holds a scar that disappears beneath the scrap of fabric covering her. Jon wonders just how far it goes.

“Why are you here, Jon Snow?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he counters, shaking off his momentary distraction. Even now that she’s no longer wired to attack, he remains on guard. The Pirate Queen has a reputation for mayhem and murder after all. “You and your people are the ones who appeared out of nowhere.”

“I suppose I should have been more specific,” Daenerys Targaryen says with another too sharp grin. “Why have you come to see me, Jon Snow?”

Jon swallows down an instinctive denial. Not only is the urge to lie ridiculous but it would serve no purpose. There’s no reason for anyone to come to Dragonstone but to speak with her.

“I wish to ask something.” The problem is he’s still unsure whether doing so would be a wise choice. Even more unsure than before in fact. Their interaction until now hasn’t exactly inspired confidence in her sanity.

It has, however, revealed that Daenerys Targaryen is dangerous even without her Dragons. Or without her people for that matter.

“What is it you wish to ask?” Daenerys Targaryen returns while tilting her head, watching him with curiosity. The sight is oddly reminiscent of how her Dragons watched him.

Jon hesitates. He wants, needs really, her aid in the fight against the dead. But only if she isn't her father’s daughter.

If she's her father’s daughter, asking for her aid might destroy the North before the dead ever arrive.

“Why have you come to Westeros?” he settles on. It’s not what he came to ask, true, but the little time he’s spend within her presence has revealed that the question is vital if he is to even consider asking for aid.

Daenerys Targaryen gives him a look that shows she is well aware this wasn’t his original question, but she answers nonetheless.

Or rather, she gives a reply.

“To find an answer.”

Frustration rises at the words that clarify nothing.

“An answer to what?” he demands, unable to keep the annoyance from his voice. He doesn’t have time for games.

“Answer my question and perhaps I'll answer yours,” Daenerys Targaryen counters with another too sharp grin, but even with the hint of danger, it's clear that she's enjoying herself.

It annoys Jon even further. This is no laughing matter.

Jon lets out a slow breath, reigning in his temper. It takes him a moment to figure out what question she wants him to answer, but when he realizes which one she's referring to, his annoyance grows.

Jon doesn’t enjoy talking about himself.

“I’m the bastard son of Ned Stark of Winterfell. I was a Brother of the Nightwatch, then I was made King in the North.”

There, that summarizes everything relevant about himself. Daenerys Targaryen can ask for no more.

He’ll not tell her more.

His answer seems to amuse Daenerys Targaryen greatly. Her grin loses its sharpness and her eyes dance with mirth.

She’s beautiful.

He really needs to gain control over his attraction to this woman.

Daenerys Targaryen’s mirth fades. She turns her head to look at King’s Landing and shows a mixture of too many emotions to parse. Jon can name but one with certainty.

Daenerys Targaryen is afraid.

“I came here to find out whether or not I can avoid becoming a monster.”

The words catch him off guard completely. Whatever he was expecting her to be here for, it wasn’t this.

“...Why do you fear you're becoming one?” he asks, deciding that's is the most important thing to know. He's careful to keep his wariness hidden but it's definitely there. Her fearing she's becoming a monster doesn’t indicate a stable state of mind.

It indicates at least part of her is still sane. The monsters Jon has known never wondered whether or not they were evil, never mind feared it. Either they knew and didn’t care, or they were convinced they were in the right. Daenerys Targaryen seems neither.

She seems to not just understand but to care about the difference between good and evil. Most important of all, she seems to desire to be good. Jon feels some of his tension leave at this positive indicator of her being sane enough to ask for aid.

“I murdered tens of thousands of people.”

This, on the other hand, makes it impossible to forget he’s speaking to the Mad King’s Daughter.

“I burned down their homes and made the streets run red. I didn’t care about the innocents, didn’t care my actions lead to their deaths. All I cared about was vengeance.”

When Daenerys Targaryen meets his gaze again, her fear is even greater than before.

“What if it happens again?”

Jon waits for her to say more but she doesn’t. She truly expects him to answer that? Even ignoring that he's a stranger to her, he has no idea what she is talking about. The destruction of Slaver’s Bay he assumes, but even if he's right, he doesn’t have enough information about what happened to form a definitive judgement.

“What caused it to happen in the first place?” he decides to return, figured that to be the best place to start.

Daenerys Targaryen’s fear disappears. What takes its place causes him to reach for Longclaw on instinct, his body readying itself for battle.

The look the Mad King's Daughter gives him is harsh and brutal, not a trace of mercy to be found.

Her eyes burn with a rage capable of consuming the world.

“The Masters wished for war. I gave them one.”

Jon is starting to understand why Tyrion warned him against angering Daenerys Targaryen. Were it not for her Dragons, he'd abandon the idea of asking for her aid altogether. As it is, he’s not willing to give up just yet.

He’s not willing to ask for her aid yet either.

“Do you think me a monster, Jon Snow?” she asks in a measured voice, but the fire raging in her eyes turns the question into a threat.

“I think,” he says slowly, choosing his answer with care, “that fearing you're becoming a monster is a right step to not becoming one.”

He truly does believe that. He also believes that merely fearing you're becoming a monster isn't enough to keep yourself from becoming one. But it’s a good start.

Of course, fearing you're becoming a monster also means you’ve done enough terrible things to start thinking yourself a monster in the first place.

Daenerys Targaryen softens, the fire leaving her eyes and the threat of violence fading away. She looks back at King’s Landing.

“I hope so. But even if it is, it isn't enough.”

No, it’s not. The fact she recognizes that is another indicator of her not being mad as her father was. Not yet at least.

Daenerys Targaryen moves off the table and strides towards the open balcony. Jon stares at her back, thoughts momentarily scattered by shock. Daenerys Targaryen’s hair covers much of her back but not all. It doesn’t cover the patchwork of scars that could’ve come from only one thing.

Daenerys Targaryen has been whipped. Brutally so.

“Come find me when you’re ready to ask whatever it is you wish to ask of me, Jon Snow,” she says without halting her movements, the sound of her voice allowing him to regain his wits. He meets her gaze when she looks over her shoulder, her lips curved in a faint smile. “Or when you’re ready to tell me more about yourself.”

Daenerys Targaryen returns her gaze forward as she reaches the edge of the open balcony.

She jumps off the cliff without a single hesitation, the procession of movement so natural Jon only realizes what she's doing after her feet have already left the ground. He’s already running after her when he hears the sound of something impossibly large moving through the air, but he doesn’t slow down until he’s reached the cliff and can see for himself that Daenerys Targaryen landed down on one of her Dragons instead of falling to her death below.

Jon wills his racing heart to slow down as he watches the Black Dragon fly out to sea, Daenerys Targaryen’s hair easily visible against its dark scales.

Daenerys Targaryen is mad.

Jon lets out a harsh breath and brings up a hand to rub the back of his neck, as conflicted as he is exasperated. He came here to determine for himself whether or not Daenerys Targaryen could be asked for aid. He’s failed spectacularly at that. She’s mad, that much is more than clear, but whether her madness prevents her from being a potential ally? That Jon has no answer for. Her madness is different from that of her father, but he doesn't yet know if it's worth putting up with for the chance of gaining the aid of her Dragons.

He needs to speak with Tyrion.

Turning around, Jon leaves the chamber with the intention to do just that. He truly hopes Tyrion will be able to clarify once and for all whether or not he should abandon the idea of asking Daenerys Targaryen for aid.

One thing is for certain. Daenerys Targaryen certainly lives up to her reputation as the Mad King’s Daughter.


	4. Chapter 4

Jon’s plan to see Tyrion is waylaid when he leaves Dragonstone and is confronted by Daenerys Targaryen’s two remaining Dragons. Both look at him with the same kind of curiosity the black one showed.

Just like with the Black Dragon, Jon is overtaken by an irresistible urge to touch them. By some miracle, neither eats him when he does.

Touching these Dragons is as breathtaking as the touching the other one. More so, given that he’s touching them _at the same time_.

The Dragons leave after he touches them, having seemingly satisfied their curiosity. Jon himself needs several moments to compose himself, lightheaded from touching _two_ unstoppable forces of nature. He swears he feels phantom flames licking his palms even after he puts his gloves back on.

When he arrives at the beach, he finds a changed scene from the night before. Gone is the exuberance, the dancing and music. Instead people are talking quietly as they go about their business, careful not to disturb those still sleeping. Fires still burn, though not as strong as before. The soldiers are still keeping watch as well, but their number has lessened greatly. Jon assumes most are sleeping in the tents.

Of the people outside, a fair number of people is awake. An even greater number is still asleep. Of those, all are lying together with at least one other person, covered by thick blankets. Most of the time there are more. Some are entangled as lovers would be. Others look like piles of of puppies.

He finds Tyrion in one of those puppy piles. This particular one contains half a dozen people aside from Tyrion. When Jon moves closer, he finds that most are dozing instead of sleeping. Four people crack open an eye at his approach. When they determine he’s not a threat, they resume dozing.

One of the woman who opened her eyes, and whose stomach Tyrion is using as a pillow, trails a hand down Tyrion’s face. Tyrion, hair and beard dotted with braids that were probably intricate when made but which have become messy with sleep, frowns and opens his eyes a sliver. When his bleary gaze settles on Jon, he lets out a deep sigh.

“When I said to come find me, I didn’t mean first thing in the morning.”

It’s close to midday, actually. Jon hadn’t left to find Daenerys Targaryen until his men had been put to work, which took far longer than usual. A consequence of the previous night.

“I figured this was my best chance at catching you sober,” he returns. Tyrion concedes the point with quirked lips and a slight incline of his head. Then he lets out another deep sigh, reluctance radiating from his every part.

“I suppose I’ll have to get up then. My mouth tastes likes something crawled in it and died.”

Without opening her eyes, the woman whose stomach Tyrion is using as a pillow reaches behind her and grabs a waterskin. Or a wine sack. Hard to tell from appearance alone.

She holds it out for Tyrion to take.

“Beautiful blossom of Lys, you are a goddess among men,” Tyrion proclaims while taking hold of what might be water, might be wine. The woman, who hails from Lys apparently, gains a fleeting smile but doesn’t open her eyes.

Tyrion drinks deeply from the sack and lets out a relieved sigh.

“All right, now that my mouth no longer tastes like dead vermin, let’s talk business.”

“Is Daenerys Targaryen mad?” Or rather, does her madness prevent her from being a potential ally?

“And straight to business it is,” Tyrion says wryly but Jon is far more focused on the people now watching him as though he is a threat. Not merely the four who reacted to his arrival, all six of them have opened their eyes. The nearest soldier has turned hostile as well, though Jon only knows this because his instincts tell him so. The soldier gave no outward reaction to his words.

In hindsight, questioning the Pirate Queen's sanity while surrounded by her people wasn’t the brightest of ideas.

“Might I ask what brought on this particular inquiry?”

Should he answer alphabetically or chronologically?

“Seeing her jump off a cliff without even bothering to look if her Dragon was there to catch her has made me wonder,” he settles on as a reply, figuring it to be better than bringing up her claim of murdering tens of thousands. Jon has never been tactful, but even he realizes that’s not a topic he should bring up in this particular company.

To his surprise, his words inspires amusement and affection. The people stop watching him as though he's a threat and return to their drowsing, while the soldier loses his air of hostility.

“She does that,” Tyrion says with equal fondness and resignation, but his eyes are shrewd as he watches Jon. “Am I correct in assuming your interest in her state of mind has to do with a desire for an alliance?”

Is he that obvious?

Tyrion nods with satisfaction.

“Thought so. Oh, don’t feel bad, Jon. You weren’t as obvious as most.”

Having Tyrion follow along his thoughts with this much ease doesn’t make Jon inclined to believe him.

“But really, what else could the King in the North want with the Mother of Dragons? She’d turn the tide of war for any side she joined.”

“I need her help,” he admits, seeing no point in trying to hide it anymore. He hopes Tyrion will be able to clear up whether or not asking Daenerys Targaryen for help would be worth the price.

“Of course you do. I can’t imagine my sister being pleased by there being a King in the North, never mind a King in the North who's a Stark.”

He’s a Snow. That’s not important right now, though.

“I don’t need her help against Cersei.” What does Cersei matter compared to the Night King?

A lot, as Sansa would be quick to remind him. If Cersei makes a definitive move on their borders, they’ll need to send far more men than they can afford to in order to defend them. Fortunately, Cersei is busy defending her own borders further South. As long as the North doesn’t involve itself in the fighting, she’ll leave them alone as well. For now.

“You don’t?” Tyrion returns, caught off guard in a way he rarely is. Jon feels a flicker of amusement. Making Tyrion react like this is quite the accomplishment.

Tyrion, of course, recovers quickly.

“Then what do you need the aid of the Pirate Queen and her Dragons for, Your Grace?”

“For the only war that matters. The Great War.”

None react to his words aside from Tyrion, but Jon has no doubt all are listening. They simply don’t find his statement to be concerning. Jon would be annoyed by that reaction if he wasn’t so tired of encountering it.

He’s gratified that Tyrion has a different reaction. He might not be able to place all emotions Tyrion is showing, but worry sticks out above all others. Good.

All should be worried by the coming of the Long Night.

“You weren’t joking about the stories being real, were you?”

“No, I wasn’t.”

No matter how much he wishes he was.

“And you believe you need the aid of Dragons in order to win.”

“I need their aid in order to survive.” Winning is something Jon hasn’t been able to hope for since the massacre at Hardhome.

Tyrion lets out a deep sigh and rubs his eyes, his frustration clear.

“How I’ve missed that famous Northern cheer.”

Jon continues to be pleasantly surprised by Tyrion’s reaction. None aside from the Free Folk have ever reacted with so little disbelief. Even his Brothers needed more proof than mere words.

“I need something stronger than water,” Tyrion declares to no one in particular. That reveals his drink was indeed a waterskin.

One of the men, whose skin is black as night, says something in Valerian too rapid for him to understand. Jon's grasp on that language is shaky at best. The man sounds disapproving, though. He nonetheless passes along a wine sack, never opening his eyes as he does.

“So I’ve been told many times,” Tyrion replies while taking hold of the wine sack. He drinks deeply. Jon was right to see him this early. An hour or two later and Tyrion would’ve been well into his cups again.

“Why do you believe me?” Jon has to ask. Tyrion’s reaction is accepting to the point of it being bewildering. Jon can't help but be suspicious of his easy acceptance.

“I don’t,” Tyrion says, both easing Jon’s suspicion and causing familiar tired resignation to rise. He knew this was too good to be true. “But I believe you believe the dead are real. I also believe you wouldn’t be acting like this without there being a real threat beyond The Wall.”

That is a far more realistic reaction than one of true belief. It also remains one of the most positive reactions Jon has ever gotten.

“To answer your first question,” Tyrion continues in a deliberate light tone that reveals whatever he's about to say is anything but. “Yes, Daenerys is mad.”

“She is not,” the woman whose stomach Tyrion is using as a pillow snaps in a heavily accented voice.

“She is strong and fierce,” a man with an even heavier accent says, his eyes remaining closed but his tone firm.

“Good and kind,” another woman, who looks as though she could hail from Dorne, says, also without opening her eyes. The man who gave Tyrion the wine sack says something in Valerian, his voice as firm as the other two. Jon catches the word for righteous.

“Just.”

“Brave.”

“Fearless.”

Jon watches with incredulity and vague amusement as every person but Tyrion exalts Daenerys Targaryen’s apparently unlimited virtues. Whatever else can be said about her, it’s clear her people adore her.

“She is all that,” Tyrion says when the praise finally dies down, the smug curve of his lips letting Jon know more is coming. “And she's also mad.”

Tyrion’s declaration is met with a chorus of disapproving sounds and glares that straddle the very edge of remaining halfhearted. Jon makes a mental note to take care with what he says about the Pirate Queen around her people. If this is how they react to one of their own criticizing her, how much worse would they react to an outsider doing so?

A lot worse, as was revealed by how they watched him when he questioned Daenerys Targaryen's sanity.

Tyrion seems unbothered by the hostility aimed his way.

“Armor,” he says in the way of someone proving their point. Judging from the chorus of long suffering groans and the disappearance of glares, Tyrion has indeed proven his point.

“She is reckless,” a woman with even more braids than Tyrion says in an aggravated voice. Recalling Daenerys Targaryen’s many scars, the woman’s statement and Tyrion’s remark turn into an implication almost too absurd for Jon to contemplate. Of course Daenerys Targaryen wears armor when she fights. Not doing so would be madness.

...Which is why Tyrion was able to use it to prove his point.

“Impatient,” the man with the heaviest accent says, as annoyed as he is resigned.

“Stubborn.”

“Impulsive.”

“Short-sighted,” Tyrion adds with a wry smile aimed at Jon. As people continue to grumble about Daenerys Targaryen’s apparent flaws, Jon realizes they don’t adore her after all.

They love her. This isn’t the blind adoration for a faceless rules, for a person they know by reputation alone. This is a love that can only come from truly knowing someone, both their virtues and their flaws.

It makes him decide to ask Daenerys Targaryen for aid. Whatever her madness, whatever terrible deeds she has committed, if she can inspire a love such as this, she isn't her father’s daughter.

“You’re going to ask her for help,” Tyrion says with shrewd eyes, reading his mind once more.

“I am.” He merely needs to wait for Daenerys Targaryen to return from wherever it is she has flown off to. While the White and Green Dragon are circling the ocean, the black one has disappeared.

Tyrion replies with a meaningless hum, his expression conflicted as he watches Jon. Yet while there is reluctance, it’s a reluctance Tyrion is doing his best to suppress. Not hide, suppress.

“You want me to ask her,” Jon says, the realization catching him off guard. 

“I want you to get her away from the Crownlands,” Tyrion corrects. The man who gave Tyrion his wine says something in too rapid Valerian, sounding amused. It inspires a few chuckles and smiles from the others.

It makes Tyrion rolls his eyes, not amused in the slightest.

“Don’t I know it,” he murmurs to himself, before taking a sizable drink.

“Why do you want her to leave?” Jon asks, made wary by this revelation. Tyrion might not believe him about the dead, but he’s not dismissive of the threat either. What could be bad enough for him to wish for Daenerys Targaryen to leave even if it means facing that threat?

Tyrion lets out a tired sigh, his shoulders slumping as much as his position allows.

“Because Daenerys is a war with Cersei waiting to happen.”

Jon grimaces. Here he thought he’d finally found a potential ally not involved in the Game of Thrones.

“She doesn’t want the Iron Throne,” he returns, asking Tyrion to elaborate.

“Which doesn’t matter in the slightest,” Tyrion returns with a grimace of his own. “She’s a Targaryen, she has three Dragons, and she's here. No matter what Daenerys says or does, Cersei will consider her a threat. And when, not if, Cersei tries to eliminate this threat, Daenerys will retaliate.”

Wonderful.

“Why allow her to come here in the first place?” he asks, more out of habit than anything else. He’s so tired of this whole war and the meaningless death it brings.

Tyrion lets out a laugh that holds a note of true despair, the reaction startling Jon and capturing his full attention. He’s never known Tyrion to despair before. 

“No one _allows_ Daenerys Stormborn to do anything. She does as she wills, and woe be any who stand in her way.”

Tyrion's words are greeted by a variety of approving sounds and expressions of pride and satisfaction. Some of that satisfaction is vicious, reminding him that for all their amicable welcome and overall friendliness, these people are still pirates.

He needs to be careful. Daenerys Targaryen might not be her father’s daughter, but she’s still every bit as dangerous as she’d first seemed. Perhaps even more so. Should she prove open to an alliance, he’ll need to put down strict boundaries. He might not want to be King in the North, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is. He will protect his people from all threats. This includes the Pirate Queen and her Dragons.

“You’re still going to ask her,” Tyrion says with shrewd eyes, reading his mind yet again. Jon confirms his conclusion with a nod. Dangerous or not, he can’t afford to give up the advantage three Dragons would bring.

Tyrion salutes him with his drink.

“Then I wish you good luck, Your Grace. You’re going to need it.”

“Why do you remain with her if you’re unhappy?” Jon asks, worried. The Tyrion before him is not the same man who traveled with him to The Wall. The despair, the resignation, the way he speaks of Daenerys Targaryen as though he's powerless to stop her...

Tyrion seems broken.

Is Daenerys Targaryen forcing him to remain with her?

No, she isn't. Tyrion is looking at him with what seems to be honest confusion.

“He's not unhappy,” the woman whose stomach Tyrion is using as a pillow declares, carding her hand through Tyrion’s hair as a lover would. “He only likes to complain.”

“Naakia, you wound me,” Tyrion returns on clear habit, his gaze still locked onto Jon. The woman, Naakia, gains a fleeting smile and continues to comb her fingers through Tyrion’s hair, taking care not to worsen his tangles.

When Tyrion speaks again, his voice is measured in a way that shows just how carefully he's choosing his words.

“I regret a great many things in my life, Jon. I don’t regret following Daenerys.”

He means it. Despite all his complaining, despite the despair Jon has never seen from Tyrion before, Tyrion is here by choice.

Tyrion believes the Mad King's Daughter to be a good person. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t.

Jon is still wary of asking Daenerys Targaryen for aid. He’d be a fool not to. But he no longer fears what will happen when he does.

Of course, while he no longer fears asking for her aid, the odds of Daenerys Targaryen agreeing to an alliance are slim to none. Jon does his best to smother the hope attempting to kindle inside him. The potential to gain the aid of Dragons might be there, but potential matters not.

Jon has no doubt that the Pirate Queen will refuse his plea for aid.

* * *

 

Jon’s resolve to ask Daenerys Targaryen for aid is hindered by the fact that the black Dragon remains nowhere to be found. Given her absence, Jon, after ordering those on watch to come find him the moment Daenerys Targaryen returns, resumes mining.

The men are working slower than usual, not yet recovered from the previous night’s festivities even with the abstinence of spirits. While part of Jon is annoyed by that, he doesn't push too hard for them to pick up the pace. They can afford to slacken off slightly for one day. Tomorrow he expects all to resume their usual pace, though. With the Pirate Queen here, it's only a matter of time before Cersei's men arrive.

Jon works as fast he can as always. He also informs Davos of his meeting with both Tyrion and the Pirate Queen.

“Well. Can’t say she doesn’t live up to her reputation,” Davos says after Jon finishes regaling him how Daenerys Targaryen jumped off a cliff without bothering to look if her Dragon would catch her.

“That she does.” Some of it, at least. Jon hopes she doesn’t live up to all he’s heard about her. Some of the stories in Maester Aemon’s letters were truly horrifying.

Does she really mounts the severed heads of slavers on the bows of her ships? Before, Jon thought that to be the kind of nonsense always spoken about people of renown. Having seen her rage when speaking of slavers, he’s no longer sure.

In the end, Davos advice remains the same. He’d have to be a fool to not at least try to gain the aid of Dragons.

Jon continues working, attempting to distract himself from his growing tension. Now that’s he’s decided to ask Daenerys Targaryen for aid, he wants to get it over with. The sooner she turns him down, the sooner he can get rid of the seed of hope sprouting inside his chest.

Time seems to pass far too slowly. When Daenerys Targaryen finally returns hours later, Jon doesn’t need a runner to tell him this. The cavern is shaken by a thunderous roar. Her black Dragon announcing its entrance like usual.

When Jon walks out the cave, he finds Daenerys Targaryen watching her Dragon leave with open affection. Jon himself watches the Dragon join the other two in the sky. He needs a few moments to tear his eyes away from the spectacle of their flying. Then he needs another moment to stop staring at parts of Daenerys Targaryen he has no right to stare at, no matter her state of undress.

When he finally manages to meet her gaze, he finds storm grey eyes bright with merriment and lips curved in a faint smile.

“Good day again, Jon Snow, King in the North.”

“I don’t recall you wishing me a good day before,” he counters, only realizing how that might sound after he’s already spoken. Fortunately, Daenerys Targaryen doesn’t seem insulted. The opposite, the smile tugging at her lips grows deeper.

“Then good day, Jon Snow, King in the North."

”Good day, Daenerys Targaryen, Queen of Pirates,” he returns, some amusement of his own rising. She certainly seems to be in a better mood than before.

“Stormborn,” she corrects, unyielding though not unkind. “My name is Daenerys Stormborn. And I’m not a Queen.”

This is unexpected. Yes, she’d introduced herself as Stormborn, but to go as far as to prefer it above the name of her House?

“But you are a pirate?” he asks, choosing to focus on something less heavy than her family.

“Among other things,” Daenerys Targaryen – Daenerys Stormborn, returns in what he can only call a teasing way. She strides towards the crates of dragonglass and peers inside one not yet nailed shut.

“Dragonglass?” she asks with equal surprise and intrigue. “What do you need dragonglass for?”

Well. He’ll not get an opening better than this.

“To use in the war against the dead.”

Daenerys Stormborn raises an inquisitive brow. Jon feels his heart pound faster at the utter absence of disbelief. He does his best to smother his rising hope. She’ll not agree to his request.

Doesn’t mean he won’t ask.

“May I show you something?” he asks on impulse. He might not be able to offer her true proof of what he's about to tell her, but he can offer her something.

“You may show me a great many things, Jon Snow.”

Jon falters. Did she just... no, that would be ridiculous. They’ve only just met. Even if she was, it wouldn’t matter. Now is not the time for that.

He shakes off his ridiculous thoughts.

“It resides inside the caves. Follow me, my lady.” Is that the correct way to address her? Jon doesn’t know. Never hurts to be polite when asking for something, though.

He turns around and moves to the entrance. As he does, he sees Davos looking at Daenerys Stormborn with his brows raised high, as incredulous as he is amused. Davos meets his gaze and gives him a look that makes the back of his neck heat up. Apparently Jon’s thoughts weren’t so ridiculous after all.

Grabbing a torch, Jon gestures Daenerys Stormborn forward. They enter the caves.

The Sanctuary, as he’s come to think of it, is some ways off. They soon leave behind his men and enter the parts they haven’t started mining yet, the only light left that of his torch.

Jon is acutely aware of Daenerys Stormborn’s proximity as he leads her through narrow pathways, feels whispers of pressure when the lack of space causes her bare body to brush against his own fully clothed one.

“You are making me very curious as to where you're taking me, Jon Snow.”

“We’re almost there,” he says, somehow managing to keep his eyes on the path instead of the for all intents and purposes naked woman near enough to touch every part of him.

When they arrive at the Sanctuary, he lifts the torch to better illuminate the carvings and looks down at Daenerys Stormborn to point them out.

He doesn’t need to. Her eyes are locked onto the carvings already and have gone wide with wonder. She steps forward and cranes her head back in order to better be able to see the images covering every in of this place, veins of dragonglass woven throughout. Slowly spinning around, she takes it all in, the light of the torch gleaming over the gold and jewels she wears. The reflections create a spectacle of light over the walls, and the fire catching on the gold woven through her hair makes it seem as though there are flames hidden within. She looks ethereal, something beyond Men.

She looks beautiful.

His reaction to this woman’s appearance is getting ridiculous.

“What are these?” she asks in a hushed voice, never looking away from the carvings.

“They were made by the Children of the Forest,” he replies in an equally soft voice. Speaking any louder in this place would feel like sacrilege. “I don’t know why.”

He believes these images are a retelling of their history, from the time before the First Men came to when they banded together to defeat the Others. He believes the images to be a warning.

He could be wrong. Perhaps they're merely a retelling, a way to remember what happened. A way for the Children teach their own children of what came before.

Perhaps the Children of the Forest believed the Long Night would never return just as Men did.

“They’re beautiful,” Daenerys Stormborn breathes, never looking away from the images that stretch as far as the eye can see. She moves towards some of the lower placed carvings and holds out a hand, letting it hover just above the images.

She doesn’t touch them. Jon hadn’t either. This place isn't meant for the touch of Men.

“The Children of the Forest,” she says, her voice soft and her expression reverent. “They were right here, standing where we're standing.”

She turns to look look at him, her eyes bright with wonder and her lips curved in a delighted smile. Jon does his best not to be captivated by her beauty.

“They might've stood here before there were any Men at all.”

“No,” he says softly. Gesturing at her to follow, he moves towards what he came to show her in the first place. The images of the First Men are revealed by the light of his torch. “They were here together.”

Not in this place. This place feels untouched by Men in a way not even godswoods do. But Men had already arrived when this place was created. At the very least they'd already arrived when the Children of the Forest added these images in particular.

Daenerys Stormborn looks at the images of the First Men and the Children of the Forest with the same wonder she showed before. Jon wishes he didn’t have to destroy that wonder.

He moves along the wall depicting the First Men.

“The Children of the Forest and the First Men. They fought together against their common enemy.”

He lifts the torch to illuminate the carvings that still send chills racing down his spine no matter how many times he sees them. He doesn’t know what material the Children used to depict the eyes of the Others, but he's certain it contains magic. The frozen blue is endless in a way he’s only ever known the eyes of the dead to be. As though they’re made of all the ice that ever was or will be. As though they contain a piece of Winter itself.

“They fought against the dead.”

Daenerys Stormborn steps closer to the images of the Others, her wonder gone. Instead her expression has solemn and vaguely troubled, her gaze intense as she examines every part of the carvings.

Her gaze halts on the unending ice that forms the eyes of the Night King.

“What are they?” she asks while meeting his gaze.

And Jon tells her. He explains about the White Walkers and the Night King, how they’re able to raise the dead to fight for them. How they can’t be killed except by fire or dragonglass. How their army numbers in the tens of thousands. How they wish to go beyond The Wall and destroy the living.

He tells her they're coming. Soon.

Daenerys Stormborn listens to him in silence, her gaze never wavering from his. She retains her vaguely troubled expression, yet that's the only thing she reveals. She offers no hint of what she's thinking.

She shows no disbelief.

When Jon falls silent, she turns to look at the carvings again. Her silence is nerve wracking but Jon doesn’t urge her to speak. If she needs time to process his words, he’ll give her that. It’s the least he can do after she gave him the courtesy of showing no disbelief to his words.

It seems like an eternity has passed when Daenerys Stormborn finally speaks.

“You want my children to fight for you.”

For a moment, Jon is confused. Then he realizes what she means by her children.

“I want to ask for their aid, aye,” he confirms. Saying the words out loud makes the tension running through him even worse, even without adding in the suddenly shrewd glance Daenerys Stormborn gives him. He still doesn't know what she's thinking.

He doesn’t need to know her thoughts in order to know what will happen next.

She’s going to refuse his request.

Daenerys Stormborn looks at the images with a silence that grows heavier with every moment that passes. Jon knows it’s his imagination but he swears the walls are moving closer, threatening to suffocate him.

When Daenerys Stormborn breaks the silence at long last, Jon is so wound up he almost reaches for Longclaw.

“I will go to the North,” she declares. “I will see these dead for myself. Then I will decide whether or not I'll lend you my aid.”

His breath catches, mind struggling to process the impossible words he just heard. She'll come to the North? She's considering, truly considering, lending them her aid?

“Is this agreeable to you, Jon Snow?” she asks while meeting his gaze. The part of him still capable of rational thought takes note of the fact that the question is clearly a rhetorical one. She would come to the North even without his permission.

“Aye,” he hears himself say, the sound of his own voice pulling him out of his stupor. He clears his throat and adjust his answer to something that makes him sound less like a halfwit. “This is agreeable.”

That wasn’t much of an improvement. Jon might’ve cared about that if his feet weren’t suddenly threatening to leave the ground, lightheaded as he's hit in full by realization that he has a true chance at gaining the aid of Dragons after all.

He has a true chance at saving his people and family. The joy that inspires is so great it takes him a moment to realize that Daenerys Stormborn's eyes have widened with surprise, the wonder from before having returned.

“You have a beautiful smile,” she says, making him realize that he is, indeed, smiling. Widely so. Jon composes himself, though he's unable to keep his lips from curving up. They might survive the Long Night after all.

Sansa might survive.

“When will you go North?” If she is to go beyond the Wall, she’ll need someone to guide her. Given he’s the one asking her for aid, that person must be him.

He can already hear the objections his decision will inspire in Davos. If Sansa were here, she'd object even more strongly.

“That depends,” Daenerys Stormborn returns. “Are you interested in hiring my services to transport dragonglass?”

Jon stares, mind thrown into chaos once more.

“What?” Transport dragonglass? As in, use her ships to bring it to the North?

“I could fly to the North of course,” Daenerys says with what is becoming a familiar smile of amusement. “But I see no reason not to go by sea instead. And if I go by sea, I see no reason not to carry dragonglass for you. For a price, of course.”

“Name your price,” he returns, already calculating how much her ships can carry and how much longer they will need to remain here. Their own ship would’ve been packed within another day, two at most, but they’ll need to remain far longer if they wish to load up Daenerys Stormborn’s ships as well. He’ll need to know how much room she has available before he’ll be able to pin down an exact time frame, though.

“You'll have to speak with Missandei in order to work out an exact price,” Daenerys Stormborn replies. “But the starting point per barrel would be...”

After a moment of thought, Daenerys Stormborn rattles off a number that makes his eyes widen with shock. That is a ridiculously low price.

“I need to go over our stores before I can say how much we'll be able to carry of course,” she says.

“Of course,” Jon repeats absently, overwhelmed all over again. Daenerys Stormborn isn’t merely considering lending the aid of her Dragons, she's offering to transport dragonglass for them for what can only be called a token payment. Never in his wildest dreams did he dare to hope for this.

When he shakes off his stupor, he finds Daenerys Stormborn watching him with another smile, entertained by his reaction. Jon clears his throat and schools his features to something more serious, wishing to impress his sincerity on her. He needs her to know how grateful he is.

“Thank you, Lady Daenerys. I won't forget the aid you've given us.”

Daenerys Stormborn’s smile grows.

“The pleasure is all mine. I look forward to getting to know you better, Jon Snow.”

Jon chuckles. Part of him is aware that his reaction makes her eyes widen with surprise again, the wonder returning.

Most of him is unable to believe his good fortune. He was convinced the Pirate Queen would have no interest in helping them. Instead he’s gained her aid in transporting dragonglass, and her honest consideration of joining the fight against the dead. He never dared to hope she'd prove his expectations wrong like this.

A part of him, one he tries his hardest to stamp out, dares to whisper that maybe he’ll be proven wrong about being able to defeat the Night King as well.


	5. Chapter 5

After leaving the Sanctuary, Daenerys soon returns with over some two dozen people. More will help tomorrow, but today most are still recovering from the festivities the night before.

One of the people Daenerys brings along is the woman she spoke of. Missandei. The curly haired woman who could've watched them all burst into flames and not batted an eye.

Davos discusses prices with Missandei, while Jon and the others show Daenerys Stormborn and her people how to mine dragonglass. To his surprise, Daenerys joins the mining herself. In hindsight, he doesn't know why this is so surprising, only that it is. Perhaps because she's still a noble despite being a pirate?

The aid Daenerys and her people give isn't truly noticeable at first. Understandable. Not only do they need to teach them how to mine, but the people themselves form a distraction to his own men. Many instructions turn into conversations about the lands they come from. Daenerys Stormborn's people ask about the North in return, as curious as his own men are.

Then there is Daenerys' state of undress. Jon can't help but observe her as she works. A significant part of that is caused by her state of undress, something that distracts his men as well, but he also wishes to see how she interacts with both her own people and his. She's friendly if distant with his own people, but it's the way she acts with her own that captures his attention the most. She talks with them about anything and everything as she works, switching between the Common Tongue and what Jon has come to realize is a bastardized version of Valyrian. She teases them and laughs when they tease her in return. She treats them as friends instead of subordinates.

She cares for them. She loves them in the same way they love her. Jon feels more at ease at the further proof that Daenerys Targaryen isn't her father's daughter.

When Davos and Missandei conclude their discussions, Daenerys leaves the caves with Missandei and stands away far enough that he cannot hear their conversation. Which means they can't hear his own conversation with Davos either.

The price Davos and Missandei agreed upon for transporting the dragonglass is higher than the estimate Daenerys gave, but it remains ridiculously cheap. Davos seems vaguely troubled by this.

"You don't trust them to keep to the agreement?" Jon asks in a low voice, ensuring his words don't carry. He also watches the Black Dragon as it dances through the sky. The other two aren't anywhere he can see them, but the Black Dragon is putting on a breathtaking display. Diving down and pulling up with impossible swiftness, looping through the air, performing barrel rolls, and so much more. Jon wonders if it's doing these things because it can't when Daenerys is riding it.

When he glances at Daenerys, he sees her watching her Dragon with open affection. Then she glances at him and Jon returns his gaze to her Dragon to avoid being caught staring.

"It's not that," Davos says in a tone that soothes his worry. While he doesn't truly believe that Daenerys Stormborn will go back on her word, he'd be a fool to dismiss Davos' own instincts. "Missandei seemed honest."

"Then what troubles you?"

"Trouble isn't the right word. I'm not worried about them cheating us. But I have a feeling we're being played."

"How so?" Jon asks, tearing his gaze away from the Dragon. Davos might seem relaxed, but those words are not reassuring.

"Just the way Missandei acted," Davos says while tearing his eyes away from the Dragon as well. "She asked a lot more questions than necessary to determine a price for their services. Partly to ensure we aren't cheating them either, I'm sure. Sharp as a whip, that one. She's from Naath, do you know the place, Your Grace? Small island down South, famed for its beauty and butterflies. Always wanted to visit but never got around to it."

"Davos," Jon says, ensuring Davos remains on point. The fact that Davos feels at ease enough with this topic to wander away from it is a good sign, though.

"It really is just a feeling, Your Grace," Davos says as though his feelings haven't proven true several times over. "But I'm convinced Lady Daenerys and her people have something to sell us aside from their transporting services. The question is, what?"

It's a good question. One which Missandei apparently avoided answering when Davos asked, though not in a hostile way. More as if she had a secret she was looking forward to revealing. Eventually.

Daenerys reacts the same way when Jon asks her himself.

"Is it really so strange we wish to have a good grasp on your markets? We might be staying in the North for quite some time, after all," she says with a mischievous smile.

"Which means you'll need to feed your people for quite some time," Jon counters, more amused than wary. The way Daenerys' smile turns pleased makes him suppress a smile of answering humor. Now that he no longer fears she's her father's daughter, Daenerys Stormborn's behavior has become unexpectedly charming. Jon is aware that his high spirits are causing that perception, but given that those high spirits are caused by her offer of transport, he doesn't find this to be an unfair trade.

"We're quite the accomplished fishers," she returns in that teasing way of hers.

"Finishing must generate a different kind of profit in Essos if it lets you afford adornments like yours," he says with a pointed glance at the golden choker protecting her throat, careful to keep his eyes from straying further down. Fortunately, it's becoming easier to ignore her state of undress the longer he's exposed to it.

"I never said fishing was our source of income."

The quip makes him turn serious. Daenerys Stormborn might not be her father's daughter, but she is a pirate. While the rumors speak of her freeing slaves, they also speak of her raiding merchant ships and coastal towns. He knows not if those rumors are true, but either way, he'll not allow her to do those things in the North.

"I'll not allow you to raid my people."

It's only after he's spoken that Jon realizes his words might've sounded too hostile. Fortunately, Daenerys isn't offended.

"We only attack slavers and rapists," she says, blunt in a way he appreciates. Even so.

"You'll need more than fishing in order to sustain your people."

The smile Daenerys gives him is as mischievous as it is secretive.

"Indeed we will."

Jon waits for her to elaborate but she doesn't.

"And how will you sustain yourselves?" he prompts, once again more amused by her behavior than made wary by it.

"Patience, Jon Snow. You'll find out soon enough."

That's the last Daenerys is willing to say on the subject. But Jon is willing to exercise patience, as she said. Not in the least because she seems disappointed when he doesn't push further. It's fun to be able to tease her back.

When evening falls, they join Daenerys Stormborn's people on the beach. There it's revealed they are indeed accomplished fishers. Most of the food available is fresh fish prepared in a variety of ways, though there's some dried meat available as well. People apparently went foraging as well, for in addition to dried fruit and vegetables, there's a little fresh produce. All dishes hold a surprising amount of spices as well, many unknown to him. Jon doesn't enjoy some of the strange flavors, but overall, it's a pleasant dinner. And while it isn't the wild party from the night before, there's still music and dancing.

Jon keeps an eye on his men, listens with half an ear to the conversation Davos is having with a group of Daenerys' people, and watches Daenerys as she goes from person to person, briefly talking with them before moving on to the next. She's clearly giving orders, but aside from that she also talks and laughs with them. She also eats while on the move, seemingly incapable of standing still. Then her Black Dragon lands among them with its usual roar, and Daenerys lifts off without a word of farewell. Judging from the lack of reaction from her people, all of this is normal behavior for her.

Tyrion joins him and they have a surprisingly pleasant conversation about things that have happened since last they saw each other. Both of them are careful to keep away from unpleasant topics, allowing the other to change the subject whenever they hit on something they have no wish to talk about. The closest they come to breaching a too heavy topic is when Tyrion asks after Sansa, yet even that remains mostly lighthearted.

It's nice to see that Tyrion worried about his sister.

Jon is feeling unexpectedly relaxed. So much that when he sees all three Dragons touch down the beach some distance away, he decides to go indulge his curiosity. Davos is more than capable of keeping an eye on the men while he's away.

Tyrion bids him farewell with a wry smile and a sloppy salute of his drink, before he goes to join Davos. Jon makes his way to the Pirate Queen and her Dragons. When he arrives, his finds that her Dragons have settled themselves so their heads are near enough for her to touch. They're also close enough to touch each other. The black and white one are merely lying side by side, but the green has thrown his wing over the black one. All three seem to be asleep.

Daenerys is seated between them. She's leaning against the black one, but the green is close enough that she can pet its jaw. Her legs are stretched out so her feet are touching the white one's jaw.

Jon halts his approach and takes a moment to marvel at the stunning sight of her Dragons. The setting sun makes their colours stand out beautifully. The Black Dragon is streaked with red the colour of blood, the green one with rich bronze, and the white one with bright gold. The patterns of their secondary colours is subtle and complex, inviting his eyes to wander over every inch of them. After a few moments of allowing himself to do just that, Jon resumes coming closer. He does his best to ignore his growing desire to touch the Dragons as he does.

Daenerys turns to watch his approach with a faint smile. Then she looks at her Dragons with surprise, almost making him halt as he wonders what caused that reaction. It would be pointless to stop coming closer now that he's already so near, though.

"They don't usually allow people to come this close. Not when they can avoid it," she says when he halts in front of her Dragons, still a distance away from her. While he came here to talk to her, putting himself in the middle of three Dragons and their very large teeth seems unwise. Especially when factoring his near overwhelming desire to touch them. Jon is fairly certain he wouldn't be able to resist if he came any closer.

"What do they usually do?" he asks.

"They warn people to stay away," Daenerys says with a fond smile, still petting the Green Dragon. Jon is more focused on his rising worry, though.

"What happens when people refuse to heed their warning?" he asks, abruptly hit by the full potential consequences of inviting  _Dragons_ into the North. Yes, they need these Dragons in order to stand a chance against the dead, but if the Dragons pose a danger to his people...

"They kill them."

The matter of fact statement confirms his fears.

"And you let them," he says, sounding more accusing than intended.

"They're Dragons," Daenerys says with an amused smile. She actually seems to find his reaction funny. Jon is reminded that while Daenerys Targaryen isn't her father's daughter, she is most definitely mad.

"That doesn't excuse you letting them kill innocent people," he says in an even voice, careful to keep the accusation out of his voice this time. The words alone are accusing enough.

"They're Dragons, Jon Snow," she repeats as though talking to a child. Jon smothers his rising annoyance. This is too important to let himself be ruled by his feelings. "Dragons do as they will. I don't  _let_ them do anything."

"Then how can I trust they'll not attack my people?" Will he have to give up the possibility of their aid after all?

Most of him says yes. He knew this was too good to be true.

"By trusting them," Daenerys says as though this is meant to be a real answer. Fortunately, she clarifies herself before a scathing retort can escape him. "They don't hunt people for food and they give warning when someone comes too near. If your people heed their warnings, they have nothing to fear from my children."

Jon remains unsatisfied by her answer, but he can see he'll not get a better one. He makes a mental note to spread the word that her Dragons must be avoided, but he can do no more without refusing the possibility of their aid completely. That isn't something he's willing to do even with this revelation. Nevertheless.

"I thought they obeyed your orders." That's the whole point of asking her for her aid after all.

Daenerys grins and gives her Dragons a warm look.

"They listen to me because I'm their mother and they love me."

She truly does believe these Dragons are her children, doesn't she? That seems... odd. Even factoring in that she's a Targaryen. Jon considers Ghost to be family as well, but he doesn't consider him to be his child.

But then, Daenerys Stormborn is an odd woman even without her Dragons.

"But their decision to follow me is a choice. As it is for all who follow me."

While her carefree admittance of having no true control over her Dragons makes his unease grow, her confirmation of their independence also sparks a thought that refuses to let go.

Well. What does he have to lose, really?

"What are their names?" he asks. He knows their titles, the White Terror, the Black Death, the Green Ruin. But he doesn't know their names. 

His question earns him a surprised look from Daenerys, before she gains a bright smile that turns her even more beautiful than usual.

"This is Drogon," she says while stroking her Black Dragon. "His brothers are Rhaegal and Viserion," she says while petting the Green Dragon and gently tapping her feet against the White Dragon respectively.

Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion. Jon takes a brief moment to decide how to best go about this. Does he ask if they're asleep? If they are, would it be wise to ask her to wake them up?

In the end, he decides to act as though her Dragons are awake. If they aren't, he can always try again later.

"Drogon, Rhaegal, Viserion."

To his relief, each open their eyes a sliver when he calls their name. All three give off a sense of vague curiosity as well.

Daenerys looks at her Dragons with both of her remarkably expressive brows risen in surprise, before turns her gaze towards him with a great deal of curiosity. She doesn't say anything though.

Jon almost hesitates but then he pushes on. Again, what does he have to lose?

"Would any of you be willing to join the fight against the dead?"

Daenerys laughs, as surprised as she is delighted. The Black Dragon – Drogon lets out what Jon can only call a derisive snort and closes his eyes, vague curiosity gone. Viserion closes his eye as well, the dismissal clear. Rhaegal, though...

Rhaegal is looking at him with a curiosity that inspires equal unease and hope. Jon holds that bright gaze and resists the urge to reach out and touch the fire made flesh.

After a moment that seems to last forever, Rhaegal closes his eyes, turning down his request as the other two did. Jon cannot help his disappointment, despite having known this would be the outcome. Still, their reaction made clear it was a question worth asking.

"You continue to surprise me, Jon Snow," Daenerys says in a voice filled with mirth and intrigue, drawing his gaze back to her.

"I figured it was worth a shot."

Daenerys' smile grows.

"Not many realise there is a shot worth taking," she says and there's a question inside her words.

Not many realise. Why did he?

"I have a direwolf," he explains, making her eyes go wide with surprise and wonder. Her reaction, specifically the wonder part, isn't one many have either. "Your Dragons remind me of him. Ghost is more than capable of making his own decisions without any input from me."

It was different when Ghost was still a pup, but now that he's grown? Ghost has no trouble disobeying him whenever he feels that Jon is acting like an idiot.

"A direwolf?" Daenerys Stormborn says in a breathy voice that sends his thoughts spiraling down the gutter, his eyes wandering over her bared chest before he can help it. He wonders if she'd sound like that if he –

"I thought they were extinct," Daenerys Stormborn continues in the same distracting voice, but the words themselves help him shake off the thoughts he really shouldn't be having. "How did you come to find one?"

In an effort to keep his thoughts out of the gutter, Jon sits down. The change in angle makes it so her state of undress is no longer shoved in his face quite so strongly.

Except Daenerys stands up and strides over, making it so he has to tilt his head back to keep meeting her gaze. Which gives him an interesting view of her chest. Jon tries to redirect his gaze somewhere more appropriate, but instead he lands on those remarkably firm thighs barely covered by her skirt. Really, is she even wearing any undergarments?

He's grateful when Daenerys takes a seat next to him. It makes it much easier to focus on her face and her face alone.

The amused smile she gives him makes it clear she's well aware of the direction his thoughts have taken. Jon might have been embarrassed by that except his attention is captured by Drogon.

Drogon, without ever opening his eyes, has lifted his head and lays it down right next to Daenerys Stormborn, and thus, right next to him. Rhaegal and Viserion follow suit. Jon clenches his hands as he fights the near irresistible urge to touch the fire made flesh, touch the glorious heat radiating from those black scales. His struggle isn't helped by Daenerys leaning against her Dragon with the ease of long familiarity. The sight inspires a ridiculous amount of envy.

"He's beautiful, isn't he?"

The question helps him regain his composure. It also makes wry humor rise.

"Not the word I was thinking of." Magnificent. Breathtaking. Terrifying. All these terms spring to mind when looking at the fire made flesh, but beautiful? Beautiful is too ordinary a word for splendor such as this.

Jon realises how rude he sounded when Daenerys gives him an incredibly insulted look.

"But yes, he is," he quickly continues, his eyes drawn back to the fire made flesh. "He's gorgeous," he finishes in a softer voice, mesmerized all over again. Jon looks at Viserion and Rhaegal, both of them as stunning as their brother. "All of them are."

From the corner of his vision, he sees that Daenerys Stormborn is mollified.

"What of your direwolf?" she asks, allowing him to refocus his gaze on her. "Is he gorgeous as well?"

"He certainly seems to think so," Jon says with another burst of wry humor, thinking of the care Ghost takes in keeping his fur pristine white. "He's an albino, with eyes as garnets and fur white as snow. He's extremely proud of the color of his fur and he hates it when it gets dirtied."

"Where did you find him?" Daenerys asks, reminding him that he hadn't answered her before.

So Jon tells her of how he and his brothers found a litter of direwolves pups and how he and his siblings each claimed one as their own. Talking of his siblings is painful though, no matter how general he keeps his tale. So he focuses on Ghost instead. He tells her of Ghost's stubbornness, curiosity, vanity, and his complete and utter lack of shame over anything he does.

Daenerys seems to hang on to his every word. It's... not uncomfortable, not exactly. But it makes him feel self-conscious.

This feeling fades when she shares stories of her Dragons in return. More specifically, she shares stories from when they were little. Jon is having a lot of trouble imagining it, but apparently her Dragons were once the size of ordinary house cats. Which lead to a number of humorous situations.

"Drogon once got himself hopelessly entangled in the spare rigging," she says with a fond grin, her eyes bright with humor and affection. "His attempts to free himself were quite the sight. This was before he could breathe fire, and he wasn't yet capable of easily tearing through the ropes either."

Drogon lets out a low rumble that causes the hair on the back of Jon's neck to stand up straight and almost makes him reach for Longclaw before he can catch the urge. He also feels a burst of incredulous amusement. The sound was clearly a warning, yet at the same time, the fire made flesh sounded almost  _embarrassed_.

"He is, of course, much stronger now. No rope is capable of standing in his way any longer," Daenerys Stormborn says in a serious voice while stroking Drogon, but the smile she gives Jon is mischievous and full of humor. It's a good thing Drogon's eyes remain closed. Jon suspects he wouldn't have been mollified by her words if he could see Daenerys Stormborn's expression.

Rhaegal lets out a, relatively speaking soft rumble. One that sounds strangely teasing. Judging from the annoyed hiss Drogon let's out, Jon's impression of him teasing Drogon was correct.

"Ghost once decided to investigate a bowl of red peppers by pushing his nose into them," he shares in turn, the memory alone making him suppress a smile. At the time he'd mostly been worried, Ghost had been in real pain while recovering from his ill advised exploration, but looking back? It was hilarious. "He greatly regretted doing that. It took days before he started regaining his sense of smell, and I can still tell what dishes hold red peppers just from the way he glares at them."

Daenerys grins and counters his story with one of her Dragons trying out eel for the first time. After one bite, Rhaegal decided eels were an abomination that needed to be destroyed. Rhaegal confirms this by letting out a disgusted hiss.

Viserion, on the other hand, discovered his favorite food. The result was Viserion running off with an eel twice his size with the intention to eat it all, while Rhaegal chased after him with the intention to burn the entire thing to ash. Given their sizes at the time, neither succeeded in their goal.

This changed as they grew older. When any eel is brought aboard now, the fights between Rhaegal and Viserion are apparently legendary. Jon is more than willing to believe that.

Their conversation continues like this. In the process, Jon discovers that Drogon is absurdly self-conscious over what he considers to be embarrassing past behavior. Which translates to stories where Drogon wasn't strong enough to get himself out of trouble. Whenever Daenerys brings up an incident like that, Drogon lets out a warning rumble. The urge to reach for Longclaw fades after the third time it happens, but Jon's humor remains.

As for Rhaegal and Viserion, Jon discovers that Rhaegal likes to tease Drogon, letting out mocking sounds that make Drogon become even more annoyed. Viserion, on the other hand, is quiet, never letting out either a rumble or a hiss. He does seem amused whenever Rhaegal teases Drogon, though.

Daenerys always reacts to Drogon's embarrassment by telling Jon that Drogon wouldn't have any problem getting out of trouble now. As though Jon needs to hear that assurance when talking about a Dragon that could effortlessly bite him in half.

Judging from the way Drogon only becomes mollified after Daenerys speaks, the fire made flesh does indeed feel like Jon needs to hear this. At the very least, he needs to hear Daenerys say it.

Her Dragons really do remind him of Ghost. Not in personality, but in intelligence. All three of them are clever as any man. If they're truly like Ghost, they're more clever than most.

He and Daenerys continue sharing stories, their conversation unexpectedly fun and lighthearted. Which is why Jon is completely caught off guard when she propositions him.

"Would you be interested in sleeping with me?"

Jon stares.

"I'm sorry, what?" he has to ask, certain he must've misheard her. He just told her of the time Ghost had to cross a muddy field and the resulting drama over the state of his fur. That is not a story that should lead to a question like the one he thought he just heard.

Except Daenerys gains a slow and wicked smile that erases all doubt about his hearing having failed him.

"I asked you, Jon Snow," she says in a low voice, speaking his name like it's a physical caress, "if you would be interested in being intimate with me."

The sudden images assaulting him are so distracting it takes far longer than it should for Jon to realise he's staring at the enticing curves of her chest. Then he's staring at her waist that's the perfect shape for him to grasp while she rides him. But first he'd have those strong thighs wrapped around his head as he goes down – Jon realizes how dangerous his thoughts have become and he somehow manages to tear his eyes away from Daenerys' bare skin, meeting her own storm grey gaze in an effort to return to safer ground.

The heady look Daenerys Stormborn gives him does not provide safer grounds. Would she looks the same if he – don't think about that. Of course she wouldn't look the same. She'd be flushed and breathing heavily – not helping.

"Why–"

His voice cracks, courtesy of his suddenly too dry throat. The embarrassment that inspires makes it a fraction easier to think. Jon clears his throat and tries again.

"Why would you ask me that?"

"Because you're a beautiful and interesting man," Daenerys all but purrs while leaning towards him. Jon finds he cannot look away from her gaze, made dark with desire. "I would very much like to make you scream with pleasure."

Rational thought abandons him, replaced by extremely vivid images of how, exactly, she'd go about making him scream with pleasure. When he finally manages to tear his mind away from those fantasies, he finds that Daenerys is even closer than before.

She has a small scar trailing down her bottom lip. All he needs to do to taste it is tilt down his head – Jon yanks himself away, only then realizing he'd been leaning towards her in the first place.

"No," he hears himself say in a rough voice, the refusal clearing his thoughts a little. He swallows his still too dry throat and turns his answer into something a little more polite. "No, I'm not interested."

He is. He's  _very_ interested. But sleeping with her would be a terrible idea. He can't recall why it would be a terrible idea, but he knows it would be.

He might be able to remember if he could tear his eyes away from her body. Now that he's leaning away from her, her bare skin is prominently in his vision once more.

"Are you sure?" Daenerys asks in a wistful voice.

"I'm sure," he says while trying and failing to stop imagining what her skin would look like when covered in marks he made. How they would stand out against her scars. What her chest would look like when gasping for breath as he –

Daenerys lets out a disappointed sigh and leans back against Drogon.

"A pity."

Jon waits for her to say more but she doesn't. When Jon realizes this matter is actually closed to her, he also realizes he needs to leave. Now.

"I need to–"

He manages to cut himself off before he can say something as foolish as  _kiss you_. Or worse.

He gets to his feet and tries to ignore both his uncomfortably tight trousers and Daenerys' highly amused look.

"I'll be going now," he says before turning around and leaving as quickly as his current state allows. He barely manages to resist the urge to look over his shoulder when Daenerys chuckles. He needs to somewhere she isn't and get rid of the images still refusing to let go of him.

Maybe if he gets rid of them, he'll be able to remember why sleeping with Daenerys Stormborn would be a terrible idea.


	6. Chapter 6

There are several reasons for why it would be unwise to sleep with Daenerys Stormborn. The most important of which is that it would jeopardize any potential alliance. What if sleeping with her turns into a condition for her aid in the fight against the dead? What if she loses interest in coming to the North after satisfying her curiosity?

What if she makes a move against his people? What if she turns out to be an enemy after all? He’s known her for a mere two days. While Jon doesn’t believe she’ll turn out to be an enemy, he doesn’t know her well enough to be able to trust his feelings. And if he sleeps with her, he’ll no longer be able to trust himself to remain objective either.

These are just a few of the reasons for why sleeping with Daenerys Stormborn would be a terrible idea.

Doesn’t stop him from dreaming about her.

The dream makes it so he’s still rattled the next day. To his relief, the amount of people that show up to help them mine is more than enough to keep him distracted. He does speak with Daenerys, but while she does flirt the entire time, she makes no reference to her offer from the night before. Jon is grateful for that. He’s also disappointed by it.

Jon distract himself from his meaningless disappointment by focusing on more important matters. The amount of space Daenerys has available, and the number of people that showed up to mine today, means they’ll need somewhere between a week of further mining at best, two at worst.

They won’t have a week. It’s a miracle Cersei hasn’t send over any forces yet. Daenerys and her people aren’t exactly making an effort to hide their presence.

The inevitable confrontation with Cersei’s forces is why Jon ensures all work as fast they can, organizing everyone in an efficient chain so the dragonglass is packed away in crates and brought outside almost as soon as it is mined. When Daenerys asks him why he’s in such a hurry, Jon explains. He also asks her what her intentions are when Cersei’s forces arrive. If they’re lucky, they’ll have a few more days before that happens.

Jon knows they won't be lucky.

Daenerys' careless response that her reaction will depend on what Cersei’s forces decide is not reassuring. When pressed further, she tells him she holds no hostile intentions towards Cersei. Unless slavery is involved, she won’t attack first. Jon supposes that’s the most he can ask for. She has a right to defend herself, same as anyone else.

Jon hopes Cersei’s forces will have enough self-preservation to keep from attacking three Dragons. Given the usual way fortune favors him, he’s expecting them to be burned to a crisp. Probably provoking Cersei into turning more of her attention to the North just to get to Daenerys.

On a more pleasant note, Daenerys reveals that her offer to transport the dragonglass includes an offer to protect him and his men while they travel to the North. Free of charge, even. Yes, it’s motivated by her attraction to him, but the offer is still a good sign for any alliance they might form.

The thing that pleases him most is that Daenerys helps him organize their people and goes around ensuring all keep up the pace. Just as pleasing, she says that her Dragons will carry all the dragonglass to her ships at the end of the day. That will save them a great deal of time.

They gather more dragonglass than he dared to hope for. If they can keep this up, they’ll need a mere four to five days to fill up the ships. Which they won’t have, but if they can have even two...

When they lay down their work and her Dragons carry the dragonglass to her ships, Jon is in fairly high spirits even with the threat of Cersei’s forces arriving. Soon after he also _desperately_ hopes that Daenerys and her dragons will join the fight against the dead, the feeling far stronger than he’s comfortable with. He can’t help it though. Why is he so desperate?

Because after they lay down their work for the day, the Dragons put on a show. More specifically, they perform a mock battle. With each other.

Jon watches with wide eyes as Drogon dives down claws first at Rhaegal. Rhaegal tucks in his wings and drops like a stone, avoiding both Drogon and the fire Viserion aims at his head, the flames passing harmlessly over his tail instead. A tail Rhaegal is trying to curl around Viserion's neck, but Viserion dodges the move with a barrel roll. It brings him upside down just in time to rake his claws over Drogon’s belly, now right above him. Drogon avoids the worst of the blow with a quick snap of his wings, pushing himself a fraction higher into the air. Viserion's claws still rake over him but Jon is fairly certain it won’t incur a penalty.

Drogon is already trying to bite down Viserion's wing before Viserion finishes passing under him. Viserion avoids the attack by dropping like a stone, Drogon’s teeth closing on empty air, but Viserion's dive brings him within range of Rhaegal, who wastes no time in trying to catch his tail in his claws.

Part of Jon is categorising the different tactics the dragons are using, their fighting styles similar yet unique.

Most of him can only look on with wonder. The fight is fast and brutal and the most breathtaking thing he’s ever seen. For the first time, Jon understands why the Targaryen civil war was called the Dance of the Dragons.

“Magnificent, aren’t they?” he hears Tyrion ask from besides him, awed in a way Jon hasn’t ever heard him be.

“Yes,” Jon breathes, his eyes never straying from the wonder in the sky. The Dragons are moving almost too fast to follow, their attacks as ruthless as they are graceful. The part of Jon not mesmerized by what he’s seeing is imagining these fires made flesh unleashing their full power on the Night King and his army.

He’s imagining a victory he hadn’t truly thought possible until now.

“Not worried they’ll injure each other?” he hears Davos ask in a voice as breathless as Jon’s own. Under these circumstances, Jon can forgive him for not having realized the Dragons are taking care not to injure each other. The spectacle they’re putting on is stunning to the point it’s difficult to think straight.

It seems obvious to Jon that they’re sparring, though. Even ignoring that all three Dragons are clearly having the time of their lives, they pull their attacks when they realize their target won’t be able to dodge in time, which then results in a brief penalty to the Dragon who failed to dodge in time. The other two never waste any time in exploiting the manufactured weakness. There’s also the fact that they’re limiting themselves as to how high they can fly, an invisible ceiling keeping them relatively close to the ocean’s surface. Judging from the things Jon heard from Daenerys’ people, all watching the spar with great enthusiasm, the goal is to make each other fall into the water.

“They know their limits,” Barristan Selmy answers Davos, casual for the most part but there’s a significant amount of awe as well. “This is– go, Viserion, go!”

The shout is almost lost under the other voices yelling with excitement as Viserion slams into Drogon’s back, sending them both tumbling down the sky. It’s clear what Viserion is doing, his position preventing Drogon from flying while also offering Viserion a platform to jump off right before they'll hit the water, and Drogon is trying to bite Viserion and grab hold of Viserion’s tail with his own but Viserion is dodging teeth and tail with quicksilver movements, and Jon knows this isn’t a true battle but that doesn’t stop his heart from leaping into his throat as the ocean nears – Drogon manages to curl his tail around Viserion’s and he _pulls_.

Viserion is yanked off Drogon’s back with a furious screech that cuts off when he hits the ocean, water flying everywhere. Wild cheering immediately fills the air. It almost covers the disappointed sounds some are letting out as well.

Drogon uses Viserion’s impact with the water to launch himself back into the sky, the cheering drowned out by his triumphant roar. Which turns into a roar of rage when Rhaegal hits him in the face with fire.

Rhaegal slams his tail down Drogon’s wing, taking advantage of the penalty in mobility Drogon is under after Viserion raked his claws over his back when Drogon pulled him off. The move almost sends Drogon crashing down the ocean still so close below, making people yell even louder, but Drogon recovers his balance just in time and flies up to gain some much needed distance from the ocean. And he does it without offering another opening for Rhaegal to exploit.

From the corner of his vision, Jon sees Viserion swimming to the shore. When he spares a moment to glance at him, he finds that the sinuous form slithering through the water is radiating aggravation.

“As I was saying,” Barristan Selmy continues like he didn’t just shout his heart out. “This is merely them fooling around.”

This is a display of force none but the Night King can hope to match. The fact that the fires made flesh are _fooling around_ only makes the display even more awe inspiring. And more intimidating.

Should Daenerys Stormborn ever decide to go after the Iron Throne, none would be able to stand in her way. She doesn’t even need her pirates, her Dragons alone would ensure her victory.

Rhaegal aims another blast of fire at Drogon’s head. Just like every other time, it passes harmlessly over black scales. Drogon doesn’t even seem to feel it, though he does attempt to dodge it. Which begs the question.

“Are their eyes vulnerable to fire?” he asks while tilting his head towards Daenerys to let her know the question is aimed at her. She’s close enough that he can see her from the corner of his vision, watching the match as he is, but he doesn’t have the ability to process her expressions right now. It’s all but impossible to focus on anything other than the spectacle in the sky.

“Fire cannot harm a Dragon,” Daenerys answers matter of factly, but there's affection and fierce pride in her voice as well. When Jon spares a quick glance at her, he sees that her expression matches her voice, her eyes locked onto her Dragons. “It is, however, difficult to see through.”

That explains why they’re using so little of it. For the most part, the battle is purely physical. Rhaegal does attempt to blind the other two fairly often, but the bursts of fire, while impressive, are quick and relatively small. Drogon employs the tactic every so often as well, but not as much by far. Same for Viserion.

The tactics they’re using make their mock battle even more intimidating. All three Dragons show an understanding of strategy that holds enormous implications. Jon had already realized that they can think for themselves, but this display has made the full reality of what that means sink in.

Daenerys' Dragons don’t need her to direct them in battle.

Yet while part of Jon is sensibly afraid, he doesn’t feel true worry. All three Dragons have already shown that they can be reasoned with, and Daenerys’ people’s mere existence shows that it’s possible to live with them. As long as their warnings are heeded, and as long as Daenerys doesn’t turn out to be an enemy, these Dragons won’t attack his people.

“Is Rhaegal the best at breathing fire?” he asks, curious.

“What makes you think that?” Daenerys returns with amusement and curiosity. He’s fairly certain that she’s looking at him as well, though at the moment Jon holds no interest in verifying whether or not he’s right about that.

“He uses fire the most.” Far more than the other two. “Drogon relies on his strength, while Viserion takes advantage of his speed.” Or tried to take advantage. As his defeat showed, his speed is useless if Drogon manages to gain a hold of him. From what he's seen, Viserion and Rhaegal are about equal in strength, but Drogon is significantly stronger. As Viserion is significantly faster. Jon wonders if breathing fire is what Rhaegal is best at.

“Rhaegal is best at concentrating his fire,” Daenerys answers with pride and affection. Jon supposes she’s watching her Dragons again. “But Drogon has a greater range, and Viserion can breathe fire the longest.”

“So Rhaegal doesn’t have an advantage over the others?”

Viserion’s speed and Drogon’s strength were easy to determine, but Rhaegal doesn’t seem to have an area he excels at. Given how many people he heard bet on Rhaegal when the Dragons started their spar, he must have some advantage over the other two, but it isn’t an obvious one.

“Rhaegal,” Daenerys says with an audible smile just before Drogon slams into Rhaegal’s chest, “is cunning.”

Even were Jon not so distracted by the sight of her Dragons falling out of the sky, he would be unable to reply to Daenerys over the screaming filling the air, people shouting encouragement at Drogon and Rhaegal both. It’s only because he’s so near that Jon can make out that Tyrion is emphatically rooting for Rhaegal. Davos is yelling as well, though Jon has no idea who the encouragement is aimed at.

Daenerys isn’t yelling.

Drogon has entwined his neck with Rhaegal's to prevent him from biting him, and while Rhaegal is struggling to free himself from Drogon’s hold, he continues to fail. With the way they’re falling, Rhaegal will hit the water first and Drogon will be able to use Rhaegal’s body to launch himself back into the sky.

Except right before they hit the water, Rhaegal’s tail, which had been uselessly pulling at Drogon’s own, whips up and curls around Drogon’s back. Rhaegal snaps a wing out at the same time, the tip hitting the water the sudden resistance causing him and Drogon to tilt sideways. Rhaegal uses the change in momentum and the leverage offered by his tail to reverse his and Drogon’s positions, simultaneously untangling his neck from Drogon’s in a startlingly swift movement.

Drogon’s enraged roar is cut off when he hits the water back first, before he's pushed under the surface completely by Rhaegal launching himself into the sky. Rhaegal’s triumphant roar is easily heard above the wild cheering of their audience.

The cheering is drowned out when Drogon resurfaces with a furious screech. Then he reveals just how little fire he and his brothers had been using in their spar. A brilliant wave bursts out his mouth, the flames producing so much steam it causes him to become invisible, only the glowing heart inside revealing that Drogon is still breathing fire. The flames die down briefly but the steam doesn’t even have time to disappear before Drogon starts screaming with fire again.

The destructive display causes laughter to join the cheers. It seems Drogon’s reaction to losing a spar is normal.

Rhaegal, now slowly circling the air, is radiating victory and satisfaction.

He planned this. He let Drogon catch him, let him believe he had the upper hand, and then he turned the tables at the opportune moment, ensuring Drogon wouldn’t have enough time to recover. Daenerys was right to call him cunning.

Now that the fight is over, Jon is capable of looking at his surroundings again. He starts by accounting for his men, spread out among Daenerys’ people. All of them are in various states of awe, delight and terror. Fortunately, the fear isn’t too dominant.

The cheering dies down and is replaced by conversation. From what he can understand, people are claiming their bets or commenting on the spar. Next to him, Tyrion is smugly informing Barristan Selmy that he only needs three more wins to get a bottle of sweet red from Volantis. Barristan Selmy counters that he only needs four more wins himself before Tyrion has to wear an outfit of his choice for an entire week.

When he’s assured himself all his men are fine, Jon allows himself to look at Daenerys. She’s wearing a fond smile, her gaze flickering between Drogon and Rhaegal. There’s a warmth to her expression that is oddly familiar, though he can’t place why it is.

No, he can place it. This is the way Cathelyn looked at Robb whenever he did something to make her proud. How she looked at any of her children whenever they made her proud.

When Daenerys notices him watching her, she meets his gaze with a smile that tells him she’s very much enjoying his attention. Jon feels wry amusement rise at her inability to stop flirting, but he turns his attention to Davos instead of starting a conversation. When accounting for his men, he’d seen Davos stare with shock at where Drogon is still venting his ire.

Davos is still looking at Drogon with shock. More specifically, he’s watching with stunned realization.

“You sell salt,” Davos says and it makes Jon’s own eyes widen with shock. Part of him is aware that Tyrion and Barristan Selmy fall silent but most of him is focused on the massive amount of steam Drogon is still producing.

They sell salt. Daenerys Stormborn sells salt. She uses her Dragons to evaporate sea water, and then she sells the salt that remains.

“That’s fucking brilliant,” Davos says and Jon wholeheartedly agrees. There is _always_ a demand for salt. Right now the demand is at an all-time high, courtesy of both the war and the approaching winter. People are scrambling to fill their stores, which means they’re scrambling for salt to preserve their food.

And Daenerys has an unlimited supply of it. She isn’t bound by the climate or the need for fuel, doesn’t have to weigh the cost of production against the amount of salt won. All she needs are the sea and her Dragons.

No wonder she can afford a fortune in jewelry.

“You didn’t know?”

Tyrion’s question draws his gaze away from where Drogon is still screaming with fire. Tyrion is looking at him and Davos with vague incredulity and not so vague amusement.

“Should we have?” Jon returns, still marveling at the brilliance of using Dragons to produce salt.

“One of the many names Daenerys is known by is the Bringer of Salt.”

“For some reason that doesn’t come up as often as her being the Mother of Dragons,” Davos says in a way that reveals just how idiotic he finds that to be. Once again, Jon wholeheartedly agrees with his assessment. An unlimited supply of salt is worth its weight in gold, and it definitely merits mention in every single tale there is about Daenerys Stormborn. Though now that the topic has been breached, he does recall Maester Aemon’s letters speaking of Daenerys trading in salt.

They didn’t speak of how she went about procuring that salt.

“People have a tendency to focus on the destruction my children can cause,” Daenerys says, drawing his gaze. She looks back at him with an amused smile and what is already a familiar pride in her Dragons. “They don’t often think of what they can create.”

An oversight Jon is guilty of himself. When thinking of Dragons, their ability to evaporate seawater isn't the first thing he thinks of. Or even the tenth.

Yet now that he has thought of it, he realizes that Daenerys doesn’t merely represent an incredible military advantage. She presents an enormous economic one as well. Ignoring whether or not she’ll join the fight against the dead, if he can secure a long term trade agreement with her, the odds of at least some of his people making it through the Long Night rise significantly.

“How much do you charge?” he asks.

The price Daenerys gives is ridiculously cheap. If he fails to secure a permanent trade agreement, he’s going to empty the treasury to stock up on as much salt as is possible. The others will voice no disagreement when they hear of this price.

“Bit on the cheap side, don’t you think?” Tyrion asks, his voice light in a way that reveals the question is anything but.

“I like him,” Daenerys answers without looking away from Jon, her frank admission abruptly reminding him of her offer from the night before. And of the vivid dream that followed. Jon catchis his gaze from wandering over parts of Daenerys he has no right to look at just in time, forcing himself to keep meeting her eyes instead. This is important.

“My thanks for your generosity,” he says, sincere. While the idea of taking advantage of her attraction to him does make him feel some discomfort, a price like this is too good to let pass by.

“Consider it reimbursement for the pleasure of your company,” she returns, her flirting making him suppress a smile. It’s hard to feel like he’s taking advantage of her when she seems to be enjoying herself so much. Most important of all, Daenerys seems to both understand and accept that he has no intention of sleeping with her. While she never lets an opportunity to flirt with him pass by, she isn't pushing for more either. She is, in fact, careful to keep a certain amount of physical distance between them, in a way she wasn’t yesterday.

Her consideration of his rejection is nice. A little disappointing as well, but Jon is ignoring that part of himself.

“We'll gather salt to sell after our arrival in the North,” Daenerys continues. “I invite you to come watch. It’s an impressive sight. Almost as impressive as my children playing.”

Given that Drogon has only just halted his fiery screaming, Jon is more than willing to believe that.

“I can hardly refuse an invitation like that,” he returns while watching Drogon dive beneath the waves. A moment later, Drogon shoots out of the water like an arrow.

Jon ignores the amused look Davos is giving him. Yes, he’s flirting back a little, but there’s no harm in that. The opposite. Sleeping with her might be out of the question, but having an amicable relationship can only aid him in securing an alliance.

Daenerys grins with pleasure, but before she can say anything, Drogon lets out an enraged roar. It's caused by Rhaegal coming to fly besides him, looking even more satisfied than before, and letting out sounds Jon can only call smug. Rubbing his victory in Drogon’s face.

Drogon replies by lunging for him teeth first. Rhaegal dodges with a graceful dive, and when Drogon’s teeth snap closed on empty air, he actually flicks his tail against Drogon’s nose before quickly pulling it out of Drogon’s range as Drogon tries to bite it off. Jon is fairly certain Drogon would have broken off his attack if it had actually landed, but missing only enrages him further.

Rhaegal makes his way towards Viserion, curled up on the shore some distance away. Drogon doesn’t follow, though he does keep glaring at Rhaegal.

Viserion glares at Rhaegal as well when he comes to land besides him. Rhaegal replies with a look as smug as the one he gave Drogon. Viserion reacts by swiping his tail at him as though they’re still sparring, white scales lashing out with impossible swiftness. Rhaegal barely ducks beneath it in time, yet he seems even more pleased with himself than before.

Jon realizes with a burst of humor that Dragons are sore losers. And ungraceful victors, if Rhaegal’s behavior is anything to go by.

Daenerys strides towards Rhaegal and Viserion. Her people pull away from her as she does. Their behavior is explained when Rhaegal goes to meet Daenerys. Despite being an enormous being that moves with sinuous grace, Rhaegal somehow manages to give the impression of trotting over. When he reaches Daenerys, he lowers his head so she can pet him. Jon can see that Daenerys is talking to him, though she’s too far away to understand what’s being said. Judging from the way Rhaegal starts preening, Jon assumes that she’s praising him.

Behind them, Viserion is pointedly not looking at Rhaegal. He’s actually sulking. So is Drogon, though unlike Viserion, he’s doing so while pacing around with a sense of barely leashed violence. Fortunately, the lack of worry shown by Daenerys’ people reveal that even if the need for violence were to break free, it won’t be aimed at them.

“They let you come quite close yesterday, didn’t they?”

Tyrion’s question, once again delivered with a casualness that means the topic is anything but, draws Jon's gaze to him. Tyrion is looking up at him with shrewd eyes. While Jon would prefer to avoid talking politics a while longer, Tyrion’s reaction makes clear that isn’t possible.

“They did." And they let him touch them before that. "Is that a problem?”

Tyrion’s grimace is not reassuring.

“Depends on your definition of a problem,” he mutters to himself before grabbing a flask from his belt and taking a deep drink. Jon knows he should ask for clarification yet he can't bring himself to do so. Not yet.

He’s been encountering nothing but problems ever since the massacre at Hardhome. Is it so wrong of him to want things to go smoothly just this once?

“You worry too much,” Barristan Selmy tells Tyrion in the way of one who’s said this many times over.

“And you worry too little,” Tyrion counters with the same familiarity.

Jon is relieved when Davos is the one to ask Tyrion for clarification on why it’s apparently problematic that the Dragons allowed him to come close. He’s even more relieved when Tyrion dodges the question by wryly saying that generally speaking, Dragons don’t enjoy the company of Men. Barristan Selmy confirms this assertion by revealing that Daenerys is the only one who can approach her Dragons without fear of being killed. Even her crew isn’t safe should they ignore their warnings.

Neither Tyrion nor Barristan Selmy seem disturbed by this.

Jon keeps an ear on the conversation but most of his focus is on Daenerys and her Dragons. She’s now striding towards Viserion, who's turned his head to watch her approach, though he doesn’t move to meet her as Rhaegal did.

Rhaegal trots over to where Drogon is still pacing. When he arrives, he lets out a taunting rumble, provoking Drogon into attacking him again. Rhaegal takes to the sky and lets out another taunting growl. Daring Drogon to follow him.

Instead of accepting the challenge, Drogon, after a furious roar, all but stomps over to where Daenerys is now petting Viserion. It earns him an annoyed look from Viserion, but Viserion does make room so Drogon can lay down next to Daenerys, hiding her from Jon’s view.

Rhaegal circles the air above them, pleased as can be. It earns him twin glares from Drogon and Viserion.

He’ll question Tyrion tomorrow. Tyrion’s behavior has made clear he cannot put it off for long. But for now, Jon wishes to keep hold of the illusion that everything is going well.

For now, he wants to keep alive the spark of hope that they might survive the Great War after all.


	7. Chapter 7

Jon’s plans to further question Tyrion the next day are put on hold by the arrival of Cersei’s men. Over two dozen ships appear on the horizon come morning, their sails prominently displaying the Lannister Lion. If one knows what to look for, the signet is clear even at this distance. Jon might have been expecting this to happen, but that doesn’t stop disappointment for rising. He’d hoped to have more time before they needed to leave. He also worries. How will Daenerys Targaryen react to Cersei’s men?

She reacts by going out to meet them. Or rather, she tries to go out. As soon as she announces her intentions, her people burst into protestations. The mixture of languages makes it difficult to understand what they’re saying, but Jon believes them to be protesting Daenerys’ lack of attire. Once again, she's wearing only jewels, skirt and boots. He’s proven right when Daenerys, resigned and long suffering, gives in to their demands.

The moment she agrees, the protestations die down, and a woman the same height and build as Daenerys promptly starts taking off her armor. Daenerys strides forward and starts putting it on. When she catches him watching, she gives him a look of exasperation belied by the fondness curving her lips.

“They think me reckless.”

Jon thinks of her jumping off a cliff without bothering to see if her Dragons were there to catch her, thinks of her easy threats and her just as casual willingness to enter battle with him while he was fully armored and she wore nothing but boots and skirt.

“I can’t imagine why.”

Daenerys’ grins, and some of her people react to his words with amusement as well. Others give him assessing looks.

Daenerys finishes putting on her borrowed armor. Despite the fact that it shouldn’t be, the sight is an odd one. Jon hasn’t exactly gotten used to her state of undress, but he’s come to expect it. Seeing her covered up feels a little like seeing a normal woman undressed.

Drogon, who once again came without Daenerys calling for him out loud, impatiently waits for her to come over. When she does, he wastes no time in taking off and flying towards Cersei’s ships. Who are being kept at bay by Rhaegal and Viserion, also without Daenerys ordering them to do so. They’ve drawn boundaries between both Daenerys’ ships and Dragonstone Isle with a spectacular display of fire. Wisely, the ships are heeding their warning.

Jon wonders why none of Daenerys’ people go with her. He asks.

“There’s no need,” the curly haired Missandei tells him. “Our Captain’s children will keep her safe.”

Part of Jon takes note of the fact that Missandei refers to Daenerys’ Dragons as her children with seeming sincerity. Most of him worries.

“She’s not invulnerable.” Not something he would worry about under normal circumstances, but right now he’s imagining Cersei’s men getting in a lucky shot and ruining everything.

“Which is why she wears armor,” Missandei says as though it didn’t take a flood of arguments for Daenerys to deign wearing even the most basic of protection. Yes, she has her Dragons, but it only takes one well placed arrow for that to become meaningless.

Which is why Jon tenses up further when Drogon drapes himself over the side of the flagship, his wings covering most of the deck and his tail hovering over the water. Rhaegal and Viserion have moved closer as well, circling over Cersei’s ships in clear warning.

Jon really wishes he could see what exactly Daenerys was doing on that ship.

“I first met our Captain’s children when they were so little she could hold them with ease.”

Missandei’s statement draws his attention back to her. She spoke the words calmly, and her expression is cool and collected, but her eyes are intent, fierce in a way that’s at odds with the rest of her composure. When she continues speaking, Jon can't decide whether her words are a warning or a threat.

“They are no longer little.”

No, they aren’t. For the first time Jon wonders just what Daenerys’ Dragons would do should she die. These wonderings aren’t pleasant in the slightest.

Fortunately, none of his fears come true. Drogon lifts off from the ship, and Rhaegal and Viserion resume guarding the borders they drew. Drogon lands on the beach and Jon feels a rush of relief when Daenerys jumps off him with the same ease as always. She’s unharmed.

Despite Missandei’s faith, she visibly relaxes as well. All of Daenerys’ people do in fact.

All aside from Tyrion. Instead Tyrion is running towards Daenerys with clear panic. Barristan Selmy follows at a more sedate pace, but there’s a tension to him as well.

“What happened?” Tyrion demands.

“No war was declared,” Daenerys tells him with a teasing smile, taking off her borrowed armor. Tyrion glares, not appeased in the slightest. Jon is expecting anger, yet when Tyrion speaks, it’s a plea.

“Captain, please.”

“There really is nothing to worry about, Tyrion,” Daenerys says more gently than before. Then she recounts what happened during her meeting.

In essence, Daenerys Stormborn told Cersei’s men that she has no intention of taking the Iron Throne, no intention of coming to King’s Landing, and no intention of remaining in the Crownlands. The commander in charge of Cersei’s forces, a noble who’s House rings a faint bell but whose exact reputation escapes him, argued that these claims are hard to believe, given her current occupation of Dragonstone Isle. Daenerys countered that they will simply have to take her word for it. The commander didn’t like it, but he agreed to leave her and hers alone until they depart. The reason for his agreement is obvious of course.

“He didn’t seem eager to engage my children,” Daenerys says with a pleased grin and a proud look at Drogon. Drogon, seated a relatively small distance away, lets out an equally proud roar.

Despite the fear of her Dragons, the commander made clear that if Daenerys breaks her word and makes a move towards King’s Landing, they will retaliate. Jon isn’t entirely sure whether the commander will make good on his threat or not should Daenerys indeed break her word, but if all goes well, that shouldn’t be a problem.

“We have no intention of remaining here after all,” she tells him like it’s an inside joke. Jon might have been amused under different circumstances, but Cersei’s involvement makes that impossible. He can’t afford to break the fragile cease fire that exists between them.

He can’t afford to abandon the dragonglass either.

“Did you reveal our presence?” he demands, only realizing how accusing he sounds after already having spoken. To his relief, Daenerys takes no offense. She does lose her smile, though.

“I didn’t. You made clear you wish to keep yourselves hidden from the Queen's forces.”

Relief rushes through him.

“My thanks for your consideration,” he says, glad when it makes Daenerys regain her smile. His gratitude grows when Daenerys tells him her Dragons will continue keeping the ships at bay. They can continue gathering dragonglass.

“Without additional charges, even,” Daenerys says with a flirtatious smile.

“Your generosity knows no bounds,” he returns with quirked lips of his own, still relieved by how well things went. Daenerys is pleased.

The threat remains of course. The commander Cersei send over might be rational, but Cersei is anything but. She could easily provoke Daenerys into starting a war. This worry is shared by Tyrion, for after Daenerys finishes telling him she kept their presence hidden, Tyrion, Barristan Selmy and Missandei continue discussing matters with Daenerys. A soldier joins them as well, and while Jon believes it to be for protection first, he’s surprised to see the soldier join in the conversation. The soldiers aren't mute, he knows that much, but he can count on one hand the times he's seen them talk.

The group has moved a fair distance away, giving themselves some privacy. Even without being able to hear them, Tyrion’s worry remains clear. Fortunately, it lessens as the discussion continues, though it doesn’t disappear entirely. Jon feels the same way. Still, even with Cersei’s men here, Jon is cautiously optimistic. They need but a few more days before they’ll have all the dragonglass they can carry. It doesn’t seem an impossible goal. Even less so as the day passes and Cersei’s men make no move to approach. Morning dawns with them still in the same position as before, and with Daenerys assuring him none used the cover of darkness to send a small force by boat either. They tried, but Daenerys' Dragons warned them away with fire again. Given that Jon was woken only once in response to a Dragon suddenly breathing fire, he's assuming the boat meekly went back to their ship.

It's the only hostile move Cersei's men make. Reinforcements might be coming, but Jon's cautious hope that they’ll be able to gather all the dragonglass they can carry before leaving grows stronger.

And then the raven from Winterfell arrives.

Arya and Bran are alive. They’re at Winterfell, they’re with Sansa.

Jon needs to go home. Now.

“Don’t be rash, Your Grace,” Davos says in that reasonable way of his, worry clear in the lines of his face. “We’ll never be able to come back here, not after Daenerys Targaryen's arrival.”

“I’m aware of that.” He is. Now that Daenerys had made land here, now that she’s come this close to King’s Landing, Cersei won’t allow Dragonstone to remain unguarded. She had before because the war was focused South and East, with Dorne, The Reach and The Iron Islands assaulting her by land and sea. While Dragonstone does offer an enormous tactical advantage when launching an invasion on King’s Landing, the island itself is difficult to hold. There's not enough sustenance on it to feed any significant force for long, requiring trade with the mainland to be truly viable. Given that Cersei felt secure in the knowledge that her enemies were incapable of reaching it in any significant numbers without her notice, she didn't want to waste the resources needed to station a permanent force here. It was a risk to leave the isle unguarded but a manageable one.

It no longer is. The moment they leave, Cersei will occupy the island, lack of sustenance be damned. Jon knows he’ll never again be able to gain access to the dragonglass mines.

He still has to go home.

“Davos, I cannot remain.”

“It’s only a few more days, Your Grace. Leaving now or then won’t make any difference.”

Jon knows that. He knows leaving now will be a mistake he’ll come to regret later.

He still has to go. He can’t remain here when Arya and Bran are alive.

He can’t remain here when all he can see is Rickon. See him run, see him come so close only for him to die right before Jon reached him...

“Please don’t ask this of me, Davos.” Not when he keeps seeing Rickon, keeps seeing his terror, the arrow, the blood. Keeps seeing the light leave his brother’s eyes.

Arya and Bran are alive. Jon refuses to lose them as he lost Rickon. As he lost Robb and their father.

Davos attempts to change his mind a little longer, but his heart isn’t in it. Jon knows he understands why he needs to go. Knows Davos is thinking of his own son and of Princess Shireen.

Doesn’t stop Davos from pointing out that they can’t leave here without Daenerys. Jon responds by approaching her to inform her of his change in plans. When he does, she tilts her head with Dragon like curiosity.

“I thought the dragonglass was important to you,” she says.

“Not as important as my family.” It should be, the dragonglass will protect his family as surely as it will protect his people. Jon is aware of that.

He still has to go home.

He can’t without Daenerys. Without her bringing the dragonglass they’ve already gathered. Part of Jon is hoping she’ll refuse, that she’ll declare they’ll remain here until her stores are full. That part of him is being sensible.

Most of him is praying she’ll leave as soon as possible.

Daenerys lets out a pensive hum.

“Then we set sail today.”

Jon breath catches before it rushes out of him in a harsh sigh of relief. It isn’t the answer he should have hoped for, isn’t the answer duty demands he should want.

He can’t find it within himself to be disappointed by his own reaction. He can only feel relief.

He’s going home.

“I’m in your debt, Lady Daenerys.”

“You can repay me by keeping me company during our voyage,” Daenerys quips and Jon can’t help but chuckle, feeling lighter than he has since the raven arrived.

Arya and Bran are alive. Arya and Bran are alive, and Jon is going home.

He’s going to see his family again.

They don't set out right away of course. Both of them need to break up camp, and even with the experience Daenerys' people have, that does require time. It requires time for him and his men as well of course, but given the difference in size of their camp, they'll be finished far sooner than Daenerys' people. Jon takes the opportunity to send the raven back to Winterfell, informing Sansa of his estimated arrival in White Harbor. Somewhere between two to three weeks depending on the weather. Had they'd been sailing alone, it would have saved them a week, but a fleet is bound by its slowest member.

Jon knows Sansa won't come to White Harbor herself to greet him, there's still far too much to do in Winterfell. He knows Bran can't come over either. Know Arya likely won't either.

Doesn't stop him from hoping they'll be there when he arrives.

Even knowing that won't happen, Jon is still overcome by joy. He's not just informing Sansa of his arrival, he's informing her, Arya and Bran.

Arya and Bran are _alive_. The wonder of that is finally hitting him in full.

What do they look like? It’s been so long since he last saw them, and both Arya and Bran were mere children then. They’ll be grown now. What has changed? What has remained the same?

Will he still be able to recognize them?

Yes, he will.

He recognized Rickon as well.

Jon busies himself with breaking up camp. Davos makes a final attempt to change his mind, but when it becomes clear that’s impossible, he joins Jon in breaking up camp.

Then Daenerys comes to his aid yet again.

“Must the caves remain intact?” she asks, catching him off guard.

“The Sanctuary has to,” he answers. The idea of destroying that piece of history makes everything inside him rebel.

“What about the entrance?”

“Why do you ask?” he returns, his curiosity roused. What is the purpose of these questions?

“Because if you don’t mind the entrance being destroyed, we can gather more dragonglass before we leave.”

His surprise is immediately followed by realization.

“You want to use your Dragons.”

Daenerys inclines her head in confirmation.

“They cannot mine with precision of course, but they should be able to gather some more before we leave.”

Jon would have to be a complete fool to refuse an offer such as this.

The result of his acceptance is another awe inspiring display of raw power. Drogon and Rhaegal continue to guard against Cersei’s ships, but Viserion lands in front of the caves and, after Jon has checked multiple times to ensure none are still inside, he starts tearing apart the entrance. Viserion is the smallest of the three Dragons but even he cannot fit inside entirely.

He doesn’t need to. Great claws rake over stone and tear it apart as though it’s made of parchment. Viserion reaches veins their own tools had no hope of reaching, massive blocks torn free. It’s not the pure dragonglass they gathered before, containing as much stone as precious material. But they can refine it later. Just having the raw material is more than he dared hope for.

The entrance eventually caves in, though it takes a surprisingly long time. Viserion is careful to keep the structure intact for as long as possible. Another sign of his intelligence.

They don’t gather as much dragonglass as they would have had they remained. But the amount comes close.

It’s another gift Jon has no idea how to repay. Daenerys has aided his people in their fight against the dead more than any but the Free Folk have. And unlike the Free Folk, she did it without requiring any arguments or persuasions. Part of Jon fears what she’ll demand in return, but he won’t sully her generosity by letting his suspicion show. He might not be the most tactful of people but even he knows basic courtesy.

After the dragonglass has been gathered and camp has been broken up, the Dragons carry both supplies and dragonglass to her ships. Only one issue remains.

The ship Jon and his men came in. They laid down anchor in a bay hidden from sight, to avoid the notice of patrols. If they leave in it, all their efforts to keep their presence hidden from Cersei will have been in vain. The figure their ship cuts is distinct. There’s no way of hiding it among the foreign ships belonging to Daenerys. Neither can they simply abandon it, Cersei’s men finding it will reveal their presence just as well. It would also reveal that they traveled with Daenerys, meaning Cersei will undoubtedly be convinced that they’ve entered an alliance. That is Jon’s hope of course, but he’d rather avoid Cersei hearing about even the potential for it for as long as possible. She won’t allow the North to remain neutral if she believes Daenerys Targaryen to be allied with them.

Fortunately, there’s a solution for this as well.

“We could burn it,” Daenerys suggest as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world. There seems to be no end to the use of her Dragons.

“We’ll need to gather our things first,” Jon says.

They set out for their ship by foot and use the slope they’d hidden to reach it. Daenerys waits for them to gather everything of importance before she shows just how lethal Dragon Fire is. Drogon, hovering over the ship, takes a deep breath and lets out a wave of fire that makes the blasts he used in his spar seem like firecrackers.

The ship is obliterated. The sheer force of Drogon’s fire is a physical blow, wood shattering into tinder. With but a single attack, the ship is no more. Drogon doesn’t stop there though. He focuses on the burning wreckage and sets about turning every single piece into ash, destroying all traces of there ever having been a ship here in the first place.

Jon imagines this power being used against the dead and feels his heart beat even faster. He’d already realized that having Dragons on their side would be a priceless advantage, but seeing Drogon unleash his fire in full...

For the first time, Jon truly believes that if they can gain the aid of these Dragons, emerging victorious from the Great War might be truly possible after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In honor of the final season launching, I present, a continuation of the fic. And great news! I've finished the first draft for this entire story! Still need to type it down and do some final revisions, but the story is done. Expect regular updates until the very end.
> 
> Fair warning, I'm taking some liberties with the timeline to make this story work. Specifically, I'm taking liberties with the Stark side of things. Accept it and move on.
> 
> Also, for those who read the prequel I wrote to this, I didn't delete it permanently. I'm planning to post it again after finishing this story. I think that will make this story flow better. Also, I need to do some revisions to that story, and I won't be able to do that until this one is finished. So, Daenerys' journey of how she came to be a pirate will return later.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! As always, I'd love to hear what you thought of it.


	8. Chapter 8

After their ship has been destroyed, Jon and his men are brought aboard the infamous Dragon Fleet. All of them remain together, courtesy of being brought aboard one of three ships dwarfing all others. They’re even larger than he thought they were. The distance had skewed his perspective.

In hindsight, it’s obvious that they had to be bigger than he thought they were. These three ships are clearly meant to hold Dragons. The deck has to be large enough for them to be able to rest comfortably. And for Dragons, being comfortable involves not being touched by anyone. Not an easy thing to accomplish in a place where people are, by definition, always in motion.

Davos is impressed by the design of the deck, extending beyond the hold and supported by a variety of beams attached to the sides. Jon is impressed as well but not in the same way Davos is. He knows something like this is tricky to do without ruining the balance of a ship, but that’s as far as his knowledge extends.

He’s more focused on the crew this ship holds. While the soldiers make up maybe a fifth of Daenerys’ people in general, on this particular ship they easily number over half. There are others present as well, Tyrion, Barristan Selmy and Missandei among them, but for the most part the crew is made up by soldiers. Who get the ship ready for departure with near inhuman efficiency.

They leave Dragonstone Isle and Cersei’s men behind with an ease that makes Jon uncomfortable. Nothing ever goes this smoothly for him.

Of course, he’s never had the aid of Dragons before.

He distracts himself by ensuring his men are well cared for. Daenerys shows them around her ship, and she does it with a pride Jon can’t help but find endearing. After showing off the deck, she takes them down below. While Daenerys does give his men the occasional glance, it’s clear that her focus rests entirely with him.

“This is where my people sleep,” she says with bright eyes and a grand wave of her hand, encompassing the unexpectedly colorful room. The space Jon had been expecting, but the cheerful paint across the walls is a surprise. The space is lived in, that much is more than clear, but it’s also clear that the paint was applied not too long ago. The colors are still vivid, and the wear and tear is minimal.

As for the hammocks used for bedding, those are stowed away for the most part, but there are enough hanging out to reveal that they’re as colorful as the rest of the room. Daenerys Stormborn, it seems, prefers bright colors in more than just clothing.

“You and your men will sleep here as well,” Daenerys says, something Jon already knew. His men are being shown where they can find their own hammocks, as well as shown a clearly defined area for sleep. Jon has no doubt that they’ll be put under watch as well. They’re still strangers for the most part after all. The fact that they’re being allowed to sleep among Daenerys’ people at all is a sign of trust. Them being allowed to keep their weapons even more so.

Doesn’t mean they’re given free reign. As evidenced by the soldiers keeping watch this very moment.

“I’ve been told there’s nothing quite like being rocked to sleep while hugged by Tyroshian silk,” Daenerys finishes with a smile as proud as it is teasing.

“I’ll take your word for it,” Jon says but this is apparently not enough for her. She gives him a mock frown and playfully wags her finger at him. Jon ignores the part of him that wonders what it would feel like to have that hand stroke him.

“No, that won’t do. You must try it out yourself and tell me the truth of your experience. I must know whether my claim is true after all. I have a reputation to uphold.”

“And what reputation is that?” he returns, amused.

“Why, one of honesty of course.”

Jon suppresses a smile. It’s true, Daenerys has been nothing but honest so far. That might yet change, but Jon is more than willing to give her the benefit of the doubt.

She’s taking him home. Jon knows it’s made his opinion of her turn biased, but that doesn’t stop him from seeing her every action in a far better light than before.

“Does your cabin hold a Tyroshian silk hammock as well?” he banters back.

“I have no cabin.”

Jon looks at her with surprise. This is unexpected. He isn’t the only one surprised, those of his men listening in are as well, but once again, Daenerys ignores them in favor of him.

“I prefer sleeping with my children,” Daenerys elaborates in response to his look. The explanation is even more surprising.

“Do you not get cold?” Yes, she runs around with the barest scrap of clothing, and her Dragons radiate heat as well, but still. Even to a Northerner like him, the idea of sleeping outside when it isn’t necessary is ludicrous.

On the other hand, Daenerys’ people have already shown that they don’t mind sleeping outside even when it’s cold, meaning Jon shouldn’t have been surprised by Daenerys’ statement. Like Davos said, people reflect those they follow.

“I’m a Dragon,” Daenerys says with a smile that’s as playful as it is proud. “Dragons don’t get cold.”

Given how Daenerys runs around, and given how he’s seen her jump into fire and emerge unscathed, Jon cannot truly refute her claim. It seems at least some of the stories about the gifts Targaryen blood hold are true. Even so.

“You must get sick.”

“Dragons don’t fall ill either,” Daenerys returns with a grin. Jon feels his lips quirk before he can help it. Whatever else can be said about the Pirate Queen, none can deny that she’s a Targaryen.

Daenerys continues her tour, showing where they will eat and where they can relax. This last includes personal cabins. To his surprise, none belong to a single person. Instead they’re communal, meant to be used by those who wish for a moment of privacy. Either alone or with company.

“I didn’t think your people required privacy when, ah. Seeking out company.”

Jon feels the back of his neck heat up, embarrassed by his own reaction. Normally he wouldn’t be stumbling over his words like this, but it’s one thing to talk about this among men, another thing entirely to talk about it with a woman he’s attracted to. Even more so when that women wears far too little. Once again, Daenerys is without a coat. It seems her wearing one is the exception, not the rule.

“Some don’t, others do,” Daenerys says, either choosing to ignore his discomfort or genuinely unaware of it. Jon is betting on the former. It’s not like his stumbling was subtle.

After the tour, he and Daenerys return to the deck, though his men remain below. They’ll be allowed up tomorrow, but it will be at set times. Understandable. A number like theirs running around without order on a ship, even one as large as this, is asking for things to go wrong. Normally Jon would’ve stayed with his men, except Daenerys asked him to remain with her. Right now Jon is far more willing to grant her requests than he otherwise would be. She’s taking him home.

She’s taking him to his family.

They won’t have the light of the sun for much longer. It was already fairly late when they set sail, and after Daenerys’ tour it’s become later still. But there’s enough time left for Daenerys to take the wheel. She does so with the same sea legs she gave her tour with, adjusting her balance to the waves with the ease of long familiarity. Davos moves the same way, but Davos doesn’t have a waist he’d like to hold on to in so many different ways.

“What are your siblings like?” Daenerys asks, and while Jon knows the question holds no malicious intent, it still makes him close down. He doesn’t want to talk about his siblings. Maybe he will after he sees Arya and Bran, but for now, talking about them is too painful.

“I’d rather not discuss them,” he says in a measured voice, forcing himself to sound neutral instead of aggravated. Daenerys meant no harm by her question. She doesn’t deserve to have him lash out at her merely for asking.

Daenerys acknowledges his words with a hum and turns her gaze towards the horizon. She looks understanding in a way that causes relief to rise. Jon is fairly certain she won’t ask after his family again.

He’s right.

“I had an older brother,” she says instead, surprising him. Jon chides himself for that reaction. He already knew she had a brother. Hearing her say it shouldn’t have caught him off guard. “Only one, though. I can’t even imagine having so many siblings instead.”

 _What’s it like?_ She doesn’t say it out loud but she doesn’t bother to hide her question either. Jon should feel annoyed at her pushing, and part of him does.

Most of him feels longing. Pain. Grief. Feels what he always feels when he thinks of how things used to be.

“It was wonderful,” he confesses softly before changing the topic. Talking about his family, even about the times when they were all happy, is too painful. “What happened to your brother?”

Jon only remembers what happened to her brother after the question has already escaped him. Before he can take his question back, Daenerys answers it.

“He died,” Daenerys says without taking her eyes off the horizon. While she remains composed, her sorrow comes through loud and clear. “He was killed by The Usurper’s assassins.”

As Maester Aemon told him so long ago. After Jon heard about his father being imprisoned, after he found out who Maester Aemon was.

And Jon realizes. Does Daenerys even know about Maester Aemon?

“I knew a Targaryen once.”

The way Daenerys whips her head towards him, her eyes wide with shock, tells him she hadn’t known about Maester Aemon.

“Your great-uncle,” he clarifies.

Jon shifts his balance to a more battle ready stance when Daenerys glares at him in a way she never has. She shifts her own stance in response, but it’s the bottomless rage she shows that holds his attention the most. For the first time in too long, Jon remembers that while Daenerys Targaryen might not be her father’s daughter, she’s still mad in her own way.

“Do not lie to me, Jon snow. My family is dead. None survived The Usurper’s blade.”

“Aemon Targaryen did,” he replies in a measured voice, resisting the urge to reach for Longclaw. “King Robert didn’t know about his existence,” he adds quickly when Daenerys’ lips curl back in a snarl. She looks more like the Dragon she claims to be than she ever has before. “He joined the Night’s Watch long ago, before your father ever even took the throne. He was your grandfather’s older brother.”

Daenerys loses her glare, a storm of emotions crossing her face instead. Jon cane name but a few. Disbelief. Denial. Grief. Longing.

Hope.

When she speaks, it’s clear that she’s doing all she can to contain that hope.

“Does he still live?”

Jon feels his chest tighten. He wishes he could give her the answer she longs to hear.

He can’t.

“No,” he says gently and feels his chest tighten further when Daenerys closes her eyes with painfully familiar grief. “He died over a year ago. It was a peaceful death. Old age finally caught up to him. He passed away in bed. It was painless.” A small comfort, but hopefully a comfort nonetheless.

Daenerys’ eyes remain closed for several moments longer, her hands clutching the wheel with a white knuckled grip. Then she pulls herself together.

Her longing is even greater than before.

“What was he like?”

“Old,” Jon replies without thought. It’s the first thing that springs to mind when thinking of Maester Aemon. The second... “Wise. Stubborn. Sharp tongued. Clear of mind despite his age. Uncaring of what anyone thought of him. A wicked sense of humor no one was safe from.”

Daenerys looks at him with a hunger he would’ve found uncomfortable under any other circumstances. As it is, Jon is struggling to organize his thoughts so he can tell her what she longs to hear.

“He asked about you,” he says in a burst of inspiration. “He was a Maester, and he used his contacts to remain informed about you.”

“He did?” Daenerys asks in a startlingly small voice. For the first time, it hits Jon that Daenerys is the same age as him. It’s strange to think of the Pirate Queen being the same age as him, yet that doesn’t change that she is.

Right now she seems far younger than him.

“He did,” he confirms, his own voice softening further. “The letters mentioning you were those he looked forward to the most.” The ones he had Sam read to him time and time again. “He was proud of you.” In a way Jon rarely witnessed him being proud of anything else.

“Why didn’t he contact me?” Daenerys asks, less a question and more a desperate plea. Jon hesitates, the question one he’s never truly thought about. Maester Aemon was a Brother of the Night Watch. Of course he couldn’t contact his family. That isn’t the answer Daenerys needs to hear, though. And when Jon thinks about the answer more deeply...

“He was ashamed.” It’s not a sentiment Jon would’ve ever thought to ascribe to Maester Aemon, yet looking back it seems so obvious. “When he got word of what happened to your family, he chose to remain with the Night’s Watch. He felt old and useless. Felt he could better serve the Night’s King than die in a futile attempt at vengeance.”

Maester Aemon once told him that they must live with the choices they make for the rest of their lives. Jon doesn’t think Maester Aemon regretted his decision to remain, not truly. But he did feel shame over it.

Jon felt ashamed for choosing to remain with the Night’s Watch as well. He still does.

“He was afraid you would hate him.” As Jon feared Sansa would hate him. She didn’t and it’s the most precious gift Jon has ever gotten. Sansa doesn’t hate him for abandoning their family.

Will Arya and Bran?

“I wouldn’t have hated him.”

Daenerys’ voice is so young and her expression is painfully lost. Her hands grip the wheel like it’s the only thing holding her together. She looks vulnerable in a way Jon hadn’t realized she could be. Looks like a girl instead of the living legend she is.

“I would have come,” she continues that same small voice. “Had I known, I would have come.”

And now she’ll never be able to. She’ll never be able to meet her great-uncle. Never be able to see her family again.

For the first time, Jon feels as though Maester Aemon made a mistake by not contacting Daenerys. By denying her the chance to meet the last of her family.

“You would have liked him,” he says honestly. He might not have known her long but he knows enough about her to be certain of that at least. As he is certain of this. “He would have loved you.” Not because she’s his grand-niece but simply because of who Daenerys is. Wild and fierce and utterly uncaring of the rules telling her how she’s supposed to act. Utterly determined to walk her own path no matter what anyone thinks of that.

Maester Aemon would have adored her.

Daenerys is overcome by another storm of emotions. There’s still grief and longing but this time there’s despair as well. Despair, and anger.

“I...” She shakes her head and grips the wheel so tightly hands turn white as bone. “I need to be alone.”

The instant the words escape her, a soldier is stepping forward to take over the wheel, and Drogon, flying high above, dives down. Daenerys runs to the rear of the ship and leaps off just as Drogon passes by, who flies away as fast he can. In no time at all, they leave the fleet behind. Jon’s gaze is pulled away from the rapidly disappearing Drogon when Viserion and Rhaegal hiss with warning and challenge. He looks up just in time to see Viserion bite Rhaegal’s neck too fast for Rhaegal too dodge, though judging from Rhaegal’s lack of pain, he didn’t bite through.

Rhaegal lets out an aggravated sound, but Viserion is already flying after Drogon and Daenerys, focused and intent. Rhaegal remains behind, radiating annoyance. Part of Jon concludes that they were arguing about who should follow Daenerys and who should remain behind to guard the fleet.

Most of him is wondering whether or not he did the right thing by telling Daenerys about Maester Aemon. Maester Aemon is dead. Would it have been kinder to spare her the grief by keeping quiet?

No, it wouldn’t have been. Had their roles been reversed, Jon would have wanted to know as well. He did the right thing.

He wishes the right thing didn’t have to hurt Daenerys.

Barristan Selmy comes to stand besides him.

“You’ve given her a great gift,” he says and it reminds Jon that his and Daenerys’ conversation wasn’t private in the slightest.

“Not the term I would use,” he returns. Yes, he did the right thing, but Daenerys’ reaction was not that of one receiving a gift.

“You’ve given her a piece of her family she could have found nowhere else,” Barristan Selmy counters, calm and firm. “Make no mistake, my Lord, this is a gift.”

Jon doesn’t refute his claim again but his disagreement remains. Apparently his expression makes that clear, for Barristan Selmy’s lips quirk in a faint smile. There’s a sharpness to his gaze that’s at odds with his smile, though.

“I’m surprised you didn’t mention her great-uncle before.”

“It slipped my mind till now,” Jon answers honesty. He knows how this could be seen, him only speaking of Maester Aemon now that Daenerys has granted his request to go North without delay. It could easily be a manipulation on his part.

It isn’t. But Barristan Selmy isn’t from the North. Jon’s word isn’t enough for him.

His word is all he can give. Later that might change, when they’ve both proven themselves to each other. But for now, Jon has nothing to offer but his word.

It seems to be enough for Barristan Selmy. His gaze softens and his smile deepens.

“I hope you’ll share with her stories of her great-uncle, Your Grace. My Lady would be willing to pay for them.”

“I’m not going to make her pay for news of her family,” Jon returns, insulted by the very notion. Judging from the pleased crinkling of Barristan Selmy, this was the reaction he was hoping for.

“My Lady will be grateful.”

There’s nothing to be grateful about. Jon would have to be a monster to withhold information about anyone’s family for something as petty as greed, never mind withhold it from someone who’s already done as much for him as Daenerys has. Sharing stories about Maester Aemon is the very least he should do.

He only hopes that Barristan Selmy is correct in saying that to do so would be a gift. Jon doesn’t wish to hurt Daenerys. His wishes to make her smile instead.

He wants to thank her for bringing him to his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So daily updates are not going to be a thing but I just saw the first episode of S8 and I have so many feels. I won't lie, not all of them are good. But yeah, so many feels, so I'm updating now in order to get the pressure off.
> 
> Also, I find it the greatest of travesties that Jon and Daenerys have not one. Single. Conversation about Maester Aemon!!!! I just... why? Why not mention him when it offers such an amazing and meaningful way to let Jon and Daenerys grow closer together? So yeah, this is me fixing the lack of Maester Aemon mention in canon.


	9. Chapter 9

He doesn’t see Daenerys again until the next day. He knows she’s returned, is woken up by a Dragon touching down the ship. But she doesn’t come down to where her people are sleeping, and Jon doesn’t feel confident enough to disturb her without a sign that it would be welcomed. He decides to wait until morning to approach her.

Daenerys is the one who approaches him instead. She comes below deck come morning, just as Jon had decided his men can eat without him while he goes to ask about her whereabouts.

Daenerys has a spectacular bruise along her jaw. It’s going to become even more spectacular as the day passes, for it’s a fresh one. More bruises are blooming on her arms and torso. There’s one high on her thigh as well, partly hidden by the scrap of fabric she calls a skirt. Jon assumes Daenerys went to another ship to spar. He’d worry about the intensity of it if Daenerys didn’t seem calm again.

Or rather, she seems settled. The grief and despair is gone, replaced by burning curiosity. She wastes no time in interrogating him about Maester Aemon, wishing to know everything about him.

So Jon tells her. Maester Aemon’s quirks and habits, his favorite foods and pet peeves. He answers her every question as best he can.

His best feels woefully inadequate.

“Samwell Tarly can tell you more,” he tells her. “He’s a Brother of the Night Watch and was Maester Aemon’s apprentice. He has far more stories about him than I do.”

“Where can I find him?” Daenerys demands, looking like a starving person who’s just been offered the finest of meals.

“He’s at the Citadel. I’ll send word to him when we arrive in White Harbor.”

Daenerys lights up and it soothes the last of Jon’s worries. Barristan Selmy was correct in claiming that stories about Maester Aemon are a gift.

Daenerys continues questioning him and Jon continues to answer to the best of his abilities. His best continues to feel inadequate. Jon tries to fix this by telling Daenerys of Maester Aemon’s reaction to her exploits, the only thing she hasn’t yet asked after, but he halts when it makes Daenerys turn conflicted. She doesn’t become angry again, not quite. But it’s clear that hearing of Maester Aemon’s pride in her makes her wonder why he didn’t contact her. Why he denied her the chance to meet the last of her family. Jon returns to sharing other stories.

His best feels less inadequate when it succeeds in making Daenerys laugh out loud.

Eventually, Daenerys’ need to move around wins out. When she sees Missandei enter the room, she breaks away from their conversation without warning and runs over to her, grabbing her hands while talking a mile a minute. Missandei is startled only for a brief moment, before she gains a fond smile and engages Daenerys in conversation. When Daenerys, after giving him a delighted smile that’s as warming as her laughter from before, tugs Missandei along to leave the room, Missandei comes along willingly. She does give him a sharp eyed look as she does, though. The soldier who entered with Missandei, Torgo Nudho he thinks his name is, goes with them as well. Torgo Nudho is also looking at Daenerys with an affection Jon has seen the soldiers show only for her.

The interaction reveals just how close Daenerys and Missandei are. Daenerys loves all her people, but the way she acts with Missandei goes beyond that. They aren’t merely Queen and subject, or rather, Captain and crew. They’re the closest of friends.

With Daenerys gone, Jon takes the opportunity to check up on his men, some of whom had left for a different room. Then he finds a quiet corner to discuss business with Davos.

Davos does not wish to discuss business.

“You and Lady Daenerys seem to be getting along well.”

Davos tone is polite in the way it only is when he’s in the mood to tease.

“We’re amicable,” Jon says with a warning look. Davos ignores it.

“Very amicable I’d say. Not a development I saw coming, I’ll admit.”

“She’s the best potential ally we’ve ever had,” Jon says, reminding Davos of what’s at stake. “We’d be fools to be anything but courteous.”

“You are indeed granting her the utmost courtesy. I’m impressed by your diplomacy, Your Grace.”

Jon gives Davos an unimpressed look, even as he can’t help a flicker of amusement. Davos replies with a smile that’s as deferential as it is shameless.

“There isn’t any time for that, Davos,” Jon says without heat. Part of him feels regret for that, he’ll not lie to himself about that.

Most of him is relieved. Yes, he’s attracted to Daenerys, but he has no desire to act on it. It’s fortunate that the circumstances don’t allow for it anyway.

“I don’t know about that,” Davos says, contrary as always. “A strong relationship can only help an alliance along.”

“And if that relationship breaks?” Jon returns with a look that lets Davos know he’s done fooling around. Davos responds by becoming serious as well.

“It’s a risk, I’ll not deny that. But the potential rewards outweigh that.”

Jon believes Davos to mean the aid Daenerys could grant them in the Great War.

He isn’t expecting what Davos says next.

“You deserve to be happy, Jon.”

The words hit far harder than they should. Jon can’t remember the last time he was truly happy.

No, that isn’t true. He does remember. The last time he was truly happy was when reuniting with Sansa.

It didn’t last long. Lasted only as long as it took for him to hear what she’s been forced to endure. What he made her endure by abandoning their family.

Does he deserve to be happy? After all he’s done, all the terrible decisions he’s made, the terrible decisions he keeps on making...

Jon doesn’t deserve to be happy. Hearing Davos claim otherwise makes him feel discomforted and guilty.

So he changes the subject. To his relief, Davos allows it without further argument. They finally discuss business.

There isn’t much to discuss. Not about the voyage itself at least. There would be if they’d been sailing themselves, but as passengers, all major concerns are taken care of by Daenerys and her people. Still, there’s more than enough to talk about. He and Davos finally get a chance to talk about Daenerys’ people in depth, something they couldn’t while still mining the dragonglass.

To no surprise, Davos has gathered far more information than Jon himself. They’d both realized that the Common Tongue and that bastardized version of Valerian are the main languages Daenerys’ people use to communicate with each other, all fluent in at least one of the two and understanding the other. They both know Daenerys’ people come from all over Essos and that most of them used to be slaves.

Davos knows that the soldiers are Unsullied. Slaves trained from childhood to become the perfect soldiers. Or rather, tortured into becoming them. Even Jon knows that the death toll of their training is monstrously high, and he knows all are made eunuchs as well. It explains their near inhuman discipline. It also makes compassion rise. No one deserves to treated like that.

He’s glad they’re following Daenerys now. Whatever her flaws, none can deny that she loves her people. Jon has seen her tease Unsullied with the same ease she teases others, and while he’s never heard an Unsullied tease her back, he’s seen them watch her with affection. Never when she’s looking and most hide the emotion when they catch someone else watching them as well, but he’s seen it. Given that this affection is about the only time he’s seen the Unsullied show any emotion at all, it’s a clear sign of just how devoted they are to Daenerys. Jon does wonder why the Unsullied still act like the perfect soldier when they no longer have to, but he supposes unlearning the lessons of a lifetime aren’t easy. Especially not lessons as gruesome as the ones they went through.

Jon knows that the people and ships present don’t form all the forces Daenerys has under her command by far. He knows that the majority chose to stay behind in Essos when she decided to come Westeros. Knows that the people present are those most devoted to her. He knows they’re the ones who refused to be left behind.

Davos knows why the others didn’t accompany her. They stayed behind to rule Slaver’s Bay. Or Dragon’s Bay, as it’s been renamed. Daenerys razing Volantis, Astapor and Mereen to the ground turns out to be a slight exaggeration. She ruined them, there’s no doubt about that, but she didn’t leave them behind in shambles. Instead she set up new leaders compromising of her own people before leaving.

Davos is sensibly worried about the effect this will have on trade. Slaver’s Bay is, or more accurately, was one of the major economic centers of the whole of Essos. The change in rule will have ripple effects that will reach even Westeros. They’ll soon feel those effects, for it’s apparently been near four months already since Daenerys burned down Slaver’s Bay. Or liberated it, as her people call it.

The effects have probably been noticeable to some already, coastal towns most of all. It’s just that the effects have until now been minor enough for Jon to not have heard about it. The last months have been hectic. He’d had other worries on his mind.

He worries about it now. Still, he can talk to Daenerys about this later. They’ll be sailing together for awhile after all.

He and Davos are still talking when Daenerys returns and asks if he’d like to accompany her up deck. Jon is more than willing to comply. The conversation he and Davos are having can be continued another time. He can ask Daenerys about what she did in Dragon’s Bay another day as well. For now, he continues answering the questions she still has about Maester Aemon as best he can. This time Daenerys listens while moving around her ship, helping out wherever help is needed.

Or rather, helping out wherever her people create the opportunity for her to do so. Even ignoring the Unsullied, whose near inhuman efficiency extends to their sailing skills, her people are clearly at home on sea. They could easily steer this ship without any assistance from Daenerys. But Daenerys apparently likes to keep busy, and so they ensure there’s always something for her to do. They create these chores when Daenerys isn’t looking, but Daenerys is well aware of what they’re doing. The fond expression she gains when encountering the minor chores make that more than clear. Her people try to keep him from noticing their actions as well, but Jon manages to spy some of them sabotaging their own work. Once he even sees an Unsullied kick a perfectly coiled up rope so it ends being in people’s way, just a little. When Daenerys passes by soon after, she gains another fond expression.

Jon helps her out as best he can. It leads to the chores growing slightly more complex. Daenerys’ people taking his assistance into account.

After a while, Drogon touches down the ship and curls up for a nap. Daenerys passes by him for a brief touch to his nose, making Drogon radiate contentedness, but then she resumes wandering her ship.

Her people account for Drogon’s presence, moving around him as best they can. They’re still far closer than they ever were while ashore, but Drogon clearly understands that they’re respecting his space as much as is possible. He never warns them to back away.

When Drogon wakes up, he calls for Daenerys. Daenerys breaks away from the conversation they'd been having and approaches Drogon with the clear intention to fly. Jon plans to watch them depart before joining Davos, now on deck with most of the men.

Instead of taking off as expected, Daenerys, already seated on Drogon’s back, tilts her head and gives him a considering look.

“Would you like to fly with me?”

The shock he feels is immediately replaced by a desire no words can do justice. Yes, he wants to fly, more than anything he wants to fly.

Except Daenerys’ question made Drogon let out an aggravated roar, every part of him radiating fierce reluctance and utter disgust. It couldn’t be more clear that he despises the idea of carrying Jon.

“I don’t think Drogon would enjoy that,” Jon somehow manages to find the strength to say instead of jumping onto the invitation. An absent part of him is aware that all attention is on him and Daenerys, but most of him is struggling not to climb onto Drogon’s back right this instant.

Drogon lets out a derisive snort and gives him a glare that tells Jon he finds this to be the greatest of understatements.

Daenerys gains a slow smile that turns her even more beautiful than usual, darkening bruise on her jaw be damned. She looks pleased, excited, and more than a little mischievous.

“You’re right, he won’t. But he will allow it.”

It’s all the permission he needs. Jon is climbing onto Drogon’s back before he even realizes what he’s doing, absently hears Davos and others cry out his name and Drogon hiss a warning in return but all he can focus on is the Magic beneath his hands, feet, beneath his entire body. It’s so much more intense than when he touched Drogon before, the inferno seeming to sing as Jon climbs on with an ease he never expected. It’s as though Drogon was made to be climbed, black spikes forming the perfect supports for his hands and feet. The only trouble comes when he needs to throw his leg over Drogon’s back, yet even that stumble can’t get rid of the giddy anticipation running through him.

And then he’s seated behind Daenerys, his arms around her waist and his legs held secure behind her own.

Daenerys looks over her shoulder with bright eyes and a smile that’s all anticipation.

“Hold on tight, Jon Snow.”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply before Drogon throws himself off the ship and snaps open his wings. Exhilaration takes over, the fear of falling a distant second despite the violent bucking caused by Drogon’s beating wings as he works to gain altitude, and Jon’s stomach is trying to escape his body and the wind is trying to throw him off and he should be freezing except how can he when he’s seated atop the inferno that is Drogon, heat and magic surrounding him on all sides and setting his blood alight.

And then Drogon’s flight stabilizes, his wings smoothly catching the currents. The ships, already an incredible distance away, become even smaller as Drogon smoothly flies away.

Jon is _flying_.

Daenerys looks over her shoulder with a wild grin. It grows even wilder when she meets his gaze.

It’s only then that Jon realizes he’s grinning as well. Madly so. He tries to say something, tries to express his awe, wonder, delight, his all encompassing joy.

He fails. There are no words that can do justice to what he’s feeling. Instead he keeps grinning like a fool.

Daenerys doesn’t seem to mind. She returns her gaze forward and spreads out her arms like she shares the same wings as her Dragons. The movement makes Jon realizes just how tightly he’s holding on to her. Where before there had been room between them, however little, now none remains. His front is plastered against her back, her bright hair trapped between them, and his arms are holding her as though he wishes she were even closer.

Jon has never felt a greater need to feel her skin against his own. He should feel embarrassed by his own reaction, yet all he can do is curse the fact that he’s wearing armor.

All he can do is revel in the glory that is flying. Even so, holding on to Daenerys like this when there’s no longer a need for it is inappropriate. Jon is fairly certain he wouldn’t have been able to let go of her under normal circumstances anyway, but these are not normal circumstances.

He lets go of her, leans back and spreads his arms as well. Dangerous, perhaps, but when will he ever again have the chance to feel like a Dragon?

Daenerys looks over her shoulder and laughs out loud when she sees his position. The wind carries her voice away, yet even the faint sound manages to catch is brighter than any other he’s heard her make.

It’s impossible not to join in. His own laughter is carried away as he revels in the indescribable wonder of flying. Jon feels lighter than he can ever remember being.

Daenerys takes hold of Drogon and gestures at him to grab hold of her again as well, still wearing that wild grin. Having an idea of what she might be planning, Jon eagerly does as he’s told, hoping his suspicion is right.

It is. As soon as he has a firm hold on Daenerys, her grin becomes even wilder.

Drogon dives. It’s dizzying and nauseating and the greatest feeling in the world, and his heart is about to leap out of his chest and Jon feels delirious and giddy and invincible, feels like there’s nothing in the entire world that can stand in his way.

He feels free.

Then Drogon pulls out of his dive and oh, this is nothing like when he first took off. There’s no effort needed to remain airborne, no need for great wingbeats. Instead Drogon cleaves through the air like an arrow, shooting up almost as fast as he came down.

It’s even more glorious than when he dove. Jon can feel the earth trying to pull him down and the wind is pushing with all its might as well, only his hold on Drogon and Daenerys preventing him from being thrown off. Being able to defy the very world itself inspires a rush more powerful than any he’s ever felt before.

When Drogon spreads his wings and his flight smooths out again, Daenerys looks over her shoulder. The sunlight catches on her eyes and the storm is transformed into a vivid purple. It looks as though the same fire that lives within her Dragons burns inside her as well.

For the first time Jon truly believes that is does. Believes that she isn’t exaggerating in any way when she claims to be a Dragon.

“Do it again,” he yells, trying to be heard over the wind. Judging from Daenerys’ laughter, he’s succeeded. Then Drogon is diving again and everything else falls away. There’s nothing beyond the freedom rushing through his veins, the heady conviction that nothing in the world can stand in his way. Right now Jon could take on the Night King himself and win.

And even though no other sensation could ever compare to the wonder of flying, there’s something achingly familiar about it nonetheless.

It reminds Jon of when he went riding with Robb. When they would race each other as fast they could and all their troubles would fall away. For once, the memory doesn’t inspire pain.

It inspires joy.

Jon doesn’t know how long he remains in the air. Time is meaningless, nothing existing beyond the wonder of flying. The only thing he’s truly aware of is when Rhaegal joins them, before being replaced by Viserion. Even that can’t hold more than a fraction of his attention.

He’s flying!

When they return to the fleet, it feels as though no time has passed at all. Jon could have stayed in the air for days, weeks, years, could have stayed forever and wanted for nothing more.

Climbing down Drogon takes longer than getting on him did. In part because Jon doesn’t want to get off him, in part because his thighs are aching in a way that reveal just why Daenerys’ own are so remarkably firm, and in part because of the exhilaration still holding him captive. The satisfaction and desire to go flying again right this instant go so much deeper than the physical, but that doesn’t stop it from expressing itself in a familiar way.

Daenerys leaps off Drogon like falling could never hurt her. The moment both of them are off Drogon, Drogon shakes himself violently, looking as though he’s trying to get rid of something nasty stuck to his hide. Him not enjoying carrying Jon was indeed an understatement.

“Thank you,” Jon tells him, needing to express his gratitude. Part of him is aware of how breathless he sounds.

Drogon ignores him and dives into the ocean with sinuous grace, but Daenerys lets out one of those bright laughs. It’s even brighter now that he can hear it in full.

“Your courtesy does you credit, oh King in the North,” she says, still wearing that wild grin of hers.

“Only a fool would be discourteous to a Dragon,” he returns with a grin of his own, couldn’t contain it even if he wanted to. Not with the exhilaration thrumming through him still.

The exhilaration turns carnal when Daenerys siddles up to him, leaning closer than she has since he rejected her offer of intimacy. Jon is acutely aware how easy it would be to close the distance between them. How easy it would be to find out if her lips are as soft as they appear to be.

“Flying suits you, Jon Snow,” Daenerys all but purrs and it sets his blood alight even further. It takes everything he has not to lean down and verify for himself whether or not Daenerys tastes of the same magic her Dragons hold.

The storm of Daenerys’ eyes is made even more intense by her desire. When her gaze darts down to his lips, the hunger in her expression makes it near impossible to remain still. Jon isn’t sure how he manages to keep from touching her. Neither can he remember why it’s so important that he doesn’t.

To his regret, Daenerys doesn’t close the distance between them. Instead she lets out a sound of longing that hits like lightning, before she abruptly turns around and marches away. Jon is absently aware of Davos coming to stand beside him but most of him is focused on the sway of Daenerys’ hips. On the scars on her back he wishes to caress until pleasure overwhelms the memory of their creation.

“Remember our talk earlier?” Davos asks in the voice that means he’s setting up a punchline. Jon replies with a curt nod, incapable of speaking through the desire holding him captive. As he is incapable of looking away from Daenerys, now hopping onto the railing. She turns around so she can watch him and grabs hold of the rigging, her gaze heady and mesmerizing. She’s leaning towards him like there’s a physical pull between them. Jon is fairly certain that she grabbed onto the rigging in order to keep herself from jumping him right this instant. A very small part of him says that this is a good thing.

Most of him wishes she would let go of the rope and hold on to him instead. Wishes she would do far more than merely touch him.

Missandei comes to stand beside the railing and says something that makes Daenerys gain a slow and wicked smile, her gaze somehow becoming even headier. It succeeds in heating up his blood even further.

“If you really meant it, you might want to stop looking at her like a wolf who’s just spotted the most delicious of prey. Just a suggestion, Your Grace.”

Normally Jon would’ve been embarrassed by how blatant he’s being but normally he isn’t drunk on the rush of flying.

Normally he doesn’t feel free.

Davos is right. He should stop looking at Daenerys like this. Should stop imaging what she tastes like, what she’d sound like when being driven mad by pleasure. And he will stop. It’s his duty to do so, and so Jon will stop.

Just not right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another update because I'm reading GoT meta and I have FEELS.


	10. Chapter 10

The high of flying eventually fades. When it does, embarrassment rises over how blatant he was being about his desire for Daenerys. Jon does it best to ignore it, he can’t help his physical reaction to her after all, but he remains discomforted. He continues to be so even when Daenerys, who goes on another flight with Drogon in order to calm down herself, returns and ignores what happened between them completely. She still flirts with him but no more than she did before.

His discomfort fades as time passes. Instead he falls into easy conversation with Daenerys. Not just about Maester Aemon, they banter about everything and nothing. Even when she asks about the dead, the air doesn’t turn heavy. The reason for this is simple.

She doesn’t react with disbelief when he explains about the dead in detail. Surprise, yes, as well as a morbid curiosity. But there’s no disbelief. No claims that his tales are lies or gross exaggerations. Just a simple acceptance of his words and a determination to go verify them with her own eyes. After all the struggles Jon has faced to make people believe him, the stubborn refusal to even entertain his words as truth without hours of arguing, having Daenerys listen with simple acceptance is a breath of fresh air.

Her reaction continues to be refreshing in other matters as well. When Jon broaches the topic of Dragon’s Bay, Daenerys answers him with a frankness he appreciates.

“Ser Barristan and Tyrion made me stay,” she says after he brings up the new leadership she installed. “I wished to leave immediately, but they pointed out that if I did, I would be condemning people to even greater cruelty than they experienced under the Masters. I killed nearly every high ranking Master there was. If I left without installing some kind of order, even more would die in the resulting chaos.”

And here Tyrion claimed he couldn’t make Daenerys do anything.

“Why didn’t you stay yourself?” he asks, more curious than wary. Yes, the Burning of Slaver’s Bay is gruesome to the point of madness, but the fact that Daenerys didn’t leave them to their fate reveals that her madness is far lesser than he’d feared. She might even be rational in her own way.

“Because if I’d stayed, I would have done it again.”

Jon feels wry exasperation rise. Every time he thinks he’s found an argument against Daenerys being mad, she goes and proves him wrong. Still, the bottomless rage she holds inside her doesn’t appear without provocation. Aside from when she speaks of slavers, he’s only seen it appear when she thought he was lying about her family, and she wasn’t blind to reason then.

Even so.

“I thought you regretted burning down Slaver’s Bay.”

“I regret not caring about the innocents standing in my way. I don’t regret destroying the Masters,” Daenerys returns with brutal honesty. She isn’t filled with rage as she was the first time they talked about this, but there’s a cold anger to her Jon has no doubt can turn blazing in the blink of an eye. Whatever else can be said about the Pirate Queen, she certainly lives up to her reputation of having not a shred of mercy for slavers.

Daenerys looks at her people, spread out over the deck, and her anger is dampened by sorrow. By the regret she spoke of but a moment before.

“I regret leading so many of my people to their deaths.”

Jon is completely caught off guard when the nearest Unsullied speaks up. Jon doesn’t know his name but he knows he’s never seen this particular Unsullied speak up. Even ignoring that, Jon has never witnessed any Unsullied speak up when their words might be overheard by him or his men.

Except the Unsullied is not just speaking up where Jon can hear him, he’s meeting Daenerys’ gaze in a way Unsullied rarely do. Her own is locked firmly onto him in return, solemn and intent. She looks as though what the Unsullied is saying is the most important thing in the world.

The Unsullied repeats the Valerian phrases. Jon believes him to be saying that following Daenerys is a choice. This is confirmed when the Unsullied meets Jon’s own gaze.

“We choose to follow Daenerys Stormborn. Always we choose.”

And he wants Jon to know that. His expression might be carved from stone as is usual for Unsullied, but just the fact that he’s speaking to Jon reveals how important this is to him.

Daenerys looks at the Unsullied like he’s one of the dearest people in the world to her. It gives an even greater weight to her statement of regretting leading her people to their deaths.

It means Daenerys can become so angry she would sacrifice even those she holds most dear. Jon has a suspicion only her Dragons are safe from that.

The Unsullied looks away from him, returning to his previous state of being a near statue. Daenerys continues to watch the Unsullied with the softest of expressions.

“If you regret it, why repeat your mistake?” he asks Daenerys, more serious than before. He still doesn’t feel true wariness though. Foolishly so, he’s well aware of that. Her bringing him to his family has turned him dangerously biased.

Jon won’t allow his bias to stand in the way of his duty. He needs to know if Daenerys poses a danger to the North. Knowing she can sacrifice her loved ones when angry has made the potential threat she poses become relevant again.

“I hate slavery more than I hate anything else in the world.”

The words are vicious in a way he hasn’t seen from her till now. Daenerys isn’t exaggerating about this in the slightest. She could watch every slaver die a slow and painful death, and she’d feel nothing but satisfaction.

“It inspires a rage that blinds me to all else. It used to be that I had to be careful when attacking slavers, had to weigh the risk to my children and people first. I no longer need to do that.”

Because her Dragons are no longer little. With them, there’s nothing aside from the Night King and his Army that can stand in her way. And as her Dragons have already proven several times over, they gladly follow her command.

“Unless I go and burn down every city allowing slavery, it will continue to exist in Essos for years to come no matter what I do,” Daenerys continues with her lips curled back in a snarl, her anger turning hot just from thinking about this. “If I wish to eradicate slavery in a way that harms the very people I wish to save as little as possible, I would have to act slowly. I would have to be patient.”

Daenerys gives him a look that makes Valerian steel seem soft.

“I’m done being patient.”

Even having known her for for little over a week, patience is not a virtue that springs to mind when thinking of Daenerys. Yet this is the first time Jon wonders if that used to be different. If she used to wait for as long as it took in order to be able to kill slavers. He doesn’t thinks she’s ever been anything but impatient, but perhaps she used to exercise restraint.

If she did, it was by necessity only. Now that her Dragons are grown, her restraint is gone. Not reassuring, given the rage she holds inside her.

“I won’t allow you to attack the North,” he says with a look that shows how serious he is about this.

“Slavery is forbidden in Westeros,” Daenerys returns more calmly than before, taking no offense to the boundary he’s drawn. “I might become angry, but I shouldn’t become blind to reason. As long as your people don’t rape or abuse anyone, they have nothing to fear from me.”

In other words, while Jon might not need to worry about the North as a whole, he does need to worry about his people as individuals. Still, from what he’s seen of her till now, this is a worry he can live with if it means gaining Daenerys’ aid in the Great War. Or even securing a long term trading agreement. Jon will have to broach this topic again later on, both to find out just what she considers to be abuse and to determine how exactly she’ll react should she encounter it or rape in the North, but for now, he leaves the topic behind in favor of a more lighthearted one. Namely, Winterfell. Daenerys asked about it already, and while Jon still finds it too painful to talk about his family, he can share this much at least.

Daenerys allows the change in subject, attentively listening to him describe Winterfell instead. She seems fascinated by his home, and Jon won’t deny he finds her reaction pleasing. Winterfell is beautiful. Seeing someone appreciate it as it should be appreciated is nice.

Seeing someone as attractive as Daenerys wear so little clothing continues to be nice as well. Part of Jon remains embarrassed by how strongly he continues to react to her appearance, but the more time passes, the more he grows used to his ever present desire. The dreams he has about her make his embarrassment momentarily flare up again, though. It also makes him grateful that he’s a quiet sleeper no matter what his dreams bring.

Daenerys doesn’t invite him to fly with her again. It takes everything Jon has not to ask for it himself. The only reason he succeeds is because he fears he won’t be able to control his desire for her a second time. Not when drunk on the wonder of flying.

Doesn’t stop him from desperately wishing she would ask him instead.

Time passes and Jon continues to learn more about Daenerys. He learns that while she herself might no longer be actively fighting to end slavery, her people in Dragon’s Bay are. They plan to liberate the whole of Essos. Slowly and patiently, as Daenerys said was necessary. She herself is planning to return to Dragon’s Bay in a year’s time or so, both to check up on their progress and to ensure they haven’t turned corrupt. She’s brutally honest about the fact that if she returns to find slavery has returned to Dragon’s Bay, she’ll burn it all down once more. Jon won’t deny that it’s worrying how she can show this kind of complete and utter lack of mercy. She doesn’t show a hint of reluctance when talking about burning down Dragon’s Bay again, or even a flicker of doubt for that matter. Even so, Jon doesn’t feel true fear for the North. The reason for this is simple.

Daenerys doesn’t want to burn down Dragon’s Bay again. She will if she thinks it necessary, there’s no doubt about that. But she doesn’t want to. The opposite, she wants to avoid doing something like that again at all cost. As evidenced, among other things, by her coming to the Seven Kingdoms in the first place. Jon has no doubt that her family’s history plays a part in her coming as well, but the main reason for her arrival is that slavery is forbidden here. She believes this will prevent her from flying into a blind rage again.

Jon realizes something very important about Daenerys. Something that makes him feel more at ease with inviting her into the North.

Daenerys isn’t violent. Dangerous, but not violent. She doesn’t want to start wars. Doesn’t want to kill just for the sake of killing.

The question is, what does she want?

“I already have what I want,” she answers with her gaze locked onto her people, a soft smile curving her lips. Her smile turns playful when she returns her gaze to him. “But I suppose I want to travel the world as well. See sights none have ever seen before, find secrets lost to the ages. Meet new people, discover new lands. Encounter beauty where I least expect to find it.”

That last is delivered with a flirtatious look that makes clear she’s referring to finding him in particular. It makes the back of his neck heat up slightly, but for the most part Jon feels amused by how shameless she is about her desire for him. He also feels flattered.

“You’re in luck then. The North is famed for its hidden wonders,” he returns while tilting his head to show off his best angle to Daenerys. Having him flirt back makes Daenerys grin. It also makes her gaze turn heady, but Jon does his best to ignore the way that makes him feel. He might flirt back a little but he has no intention of going beyond that.

It’s a relief that Daenerys never pushes for more. Her easy acceptance of his refusal to sleep with her is the only reason he can flirt back in the first place. It would be disappointing if he was forced to give it up.

Daenerys isn’t the only one he learns more about. He learns more about her people as well. Learns they’re the same as the woman they follow. Dangerous, but not violent.

He learns this holds true for her Dragons as well. They fly, they swim, they eat, they sleep. They tease, they argue, they play. They seem as content to travel like this as Daenerys herself is.

He learns Viserion is the most quiet and the most calm among his brothers, the polar opposite of Drogon. Rhaegal, on the other hand, is the most mischievous of the three. He often teases both Daenerys and Drogon, to Daenerys’ delight and to Drogon’s annoyance. Every so often Drogon teases Rhaegal back, though.

Viserion, however, almost never joins in. He enjoys watching it, but he rarely feels a need to do it himself. And the few times Rhaegal attempts to tease him, Viserion seems more amused than anything else. To Rhaegal’s disappointment.

He learns all three Dragons are at home in the sea as they are in the sky. They dive in and out of the water with breathtaking grace, they slither through the ocean like they were born in it, and they swim aside the fleet with the ease of long familiarity. Most surprising of all, they play with the fleet. Dragons might hate being touched by anyone but Daenerys, but they have no trouble interacting with people from a distance.

Or rather, Rhaegal and Viserion have no trouble with it. Drogon never engages in play with ships as his brothers do, and Rhaegal never does it without Viserion either, but Viserion regularly plays with ships all on his own. More specifically, he plays with the smallest ships in Daenerys' fleet. He hovers behind them and uses the wind generated by his wings to force them off course, he swims close by and gets in their way. Sometimes he even clings to the hulls and rocks them back and forth. Jon might have worried that he's bothering the people aboard the ships, but the cheering carried over the water makes clear that these games are consensual on both sides. The care Viserion, and Rhaegal the few times he joins his brother, take in not damaging the ships is another sign of this being nothing but harmless play.

He learns Daenerys is as at home in the water as she is in the sky as well, jumping into the ocean to swim with her Dragons whenever it pleases her.

He learns Drogon doesn’t like him. At all. Jon never felt particularly welcomed by him, but after riding on him, Drogon now glares at him whenever he sees Jon. His glare grows even fiercer whenever Jon dares to accompany Daenerys when she goes to spend time with him while he’s on deck. Drogon usually doesn’t warns him away, though. Most of the time he allows Jon to accompany Daenerys.

Rhaegal, on the other hand, seems curious about him. That's something that surprises even Daenerys. Dragons, it turns out, don't care about people in general. They live alongside them, but they don't have any real attachment to them. Not aside from Daenerys.

Yet whenever Rhaegal lands on the ship for a nap, he first watches Jon as though he finds him to be intriguing. He doesn’t allow him to touch him again, the one time Jon is foolish enough to give in to that urge he gets a warning hiss for his troubles. But he watches him.

Jon watches him in turn. Watches Drogon and Viserion just as much. Just like Daenerys herself, her Dragons only seem to grow more beautiful as time passes. The patterns of their secondary colors continue to make his eyes wander over every single inch of them.

It still takes him awhile to figure out why those patterns feel so irregular. When he does, he’s reminded of how dangerous these Dragons can be.

All three Dragons bear as many scars as Daenerys herself does. Their patterns are interrupted with what Jon comes to realize are the remnants of old wounds. The jagged lines of blood red, rich bronze and bright gold are places where they were once made to bleed. Jon is reminded that while these Dragons might be unstoppable now, they weren’t always. Once, they were vulnerable.

Being vulnerable clearly didn’t stop them from joining Daenerys in her raiding of slaver ships.

While Drogon dislikes him and Rhaegal seems curious about him, Viserion doesn’t seem to care about him one way or another. When he touches down, it’s with the intention to have Daenerys near and to sleep.

That’s another thing Jon learns about Dragons. They don’t sleep for long periods of time. Instead they take naps throughout the day. And throughout the night as well, given how regularly he’s woken by one taken off before being replaced by another. Jon assumes that they have a schedule during the night, for they switch places with the punctuality of a watch. Making sure someone is always there to offer Daenerys a place to sleep. She wasn’t kidding about preferring to sleep with her Dragons.

During the day, they touch down for a nap more irregularly. Drogon sleeps in a tight ball, keeping as far away from people as is possible on a ship. Rhaegal sprawls out as much as the ship allows and expects people to deal with it. Viserion, the most considerate of the three, doesn't curl up as Drogon does, but he doesn't sprawl out like Rhaegal either. He also moves out of people's way when they ask. Dragons are light sleepers, it turns out.

All three Dragons always sleep on the ship Daenerys is on if possible, but when she’s gone flying, the other two ships meant for them are used as well.

Or rather, they’re used by Rhaegal and Viserion. Daenerys only seems to fly on Drogon. Jon wonders why.

“Rhaegal and Viserion don’t enjoy carrying me,” Daenerys explains. “They don’t mind it, but they don’t particularly enjoy it either. Not like Drogon does.”

And Daenerys, Jon has come to realize, indulges her Dragons as much as they indulge her. Her inviting him to fly with her was motivated by gratitude for sharing stories about Maester Aemon. She never would’ve asked Drogon to do something he so hates doing otherwise. Her consideration of Drogon’s feelings are undoubtedly why she hasn’t invited him to fly again either.

Knowing how much Drogon hates carrying him doesn’t stop Jon from desperately wishing he would allow it once more.

A week into their voyage, Davos shares information that makes Jon forget all about both his attraction to Daenerys and his desire to fly.

“Children?” he demands incredulously, unable to believe what Davos just told him.

“Children,” Davos confirms gravely, in wholehearted agreement with Jon’s reaction. “Enough that they had not one but two ships for them.”

Jon’s mind boggles even more. Daenerys allowed that many children to join her fleet? Is she mad?

Jon abruptly remembers that yes, yes she is. Not in the conventional way but mad nonetheless. He really needs to stop forgetting that.

“Why?” he asks, unable to understand why Daenerys would do something like this.

“As I understand it, it started when the women among her people fell pregnant. Not all wished to leave. Neither did they wish to give up their children.”

“So Daenerys allowed them to remain?” Among pirates, among a fleet that regularly raided armed ships?

“It seems so, Your Grace.”

Jon shakes his head, unable to believe what he’s just been told. Yes, not all have the luxury of keeping their children safe, but with a booming salt trade, Daenerys had more than enough money to find new homes for these women and their children, for their _babes_.

She could’ve found them a place to live that didn’t lead to their deaths. Even ignoring that he hasn’t seen any younger than perhaps fifteen among Daenerys’ people, the way Davos talks about them makes clear these children no longer live.

“What happened to them?”

“They were murdered,” Davos says, confirming Jon’s worst fear. “The ships were destroyed by slavers. None survived the attack. It’s what led to the Burning of Slaver’s Bay.”

Jon’s chest tightens. Daenerys hates slavers with the greatest of passions, makes this fact clear to everyone within moments of meeting her. Yet hearing this is what led to the action Jon worries about the most, hearing that the cause was the massacre of ships filled with children...

“The ships were called The Dragon’s Hearts,” Davos says softly and it tells Jon everything he needs to know about their importance. All the ships in Daenerys’ fleet follows the same naming convention. The Dragon’s Flight, The Dragon’s Fury, The Dragon’s Longing.

And these ships were called The Dragon’s Hearts.

It doesn’t excuse the massacre Daenerys inflicted on Slaver’s Bay in return, doesn’t excuse the innocents she murdered without care. But it does mean she didn’t do it without reason. Without extreme provocation. From a practical point of view, this is good news. It shows just how much it takes for Daenerys to fly into a blind rage.

Most of Jon only feels compassion. And worry. No matter what happened to them, the fact remains that Daenerys allowed children into her very active pirate fleet. She allowed them to become pirates themselves.

Jon intends to speak to Daenerys about this, to ask for clarification why she allowed children into her crew instead of sending them somewhere safer. Unfortunately, Daenerys isn’t present. She’s gone on one of her flights on Drogon. Jon decides to look for Tyrion instead.

He finds Tyrion where he leasts expects him. In the kitchen, preparing food.

“Welcome, Your Grace,” Tyrion greets cheerfully from where he’s cutting up freshly caught fish. The sight of a Lannister performing the work of a scullery maid is one Jon never expected to see. “Have you come to save me from my dreaded kitchen duty?”

“I think I’ll marvel at the sight of Tyrion Lannister performing servant’s work a moment instead,” he counters, not truly amused but knowing this is not a topic he should dive into without warning.

“The life of a pirate is in many ways surprisingly mundane,” Tyrion returns with his signature smile. “I’ve discovered talents I never knew I had.”

“Tyrion is a Champion of Fish Gutting,” the woman seated next to Tyrion, Naakia, says without looking up from her own work. She’s wearing a playful smile, though.

She’s perhaps thirty years old.

“The Slayer of Greens,” a man with skin black as the night continues dramatically. He’s well into his forties, if not his fifties.

“The Terror of Peppers,” a woman with hair almost as fair as Daenerys proclaims, her name momentarily escaping him. Ishar? Ishtar? Something like that.

She can’t be more than twenty years old.

The rest of the people seated at the table are Unsullied, who work with their usual efficiency and don’t add anything to the conversation. Whose ages range from mid twenty to mid thirty. From what Jon saw of Daenerys’ people on Dragonstone Isle, most fall between twenty to forty years old. Some are older.

Some are the same age Olly was.

“All of you, hush,” Tyrion says with a mock glare. “You’ll ruin my reputation as a dashing rogue of the sea.”

Seeing Tyrion so at home among Daenerys’ people is both comforting and discortening. Comforting, for Tyrion wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t feel safe here. Discortening, for Tyrion apparently feels at home among pirates who allow children to join them.

“I wish to talk to you,” Jon says, getting down to business.

“About what, might I ask?” Tyrion returns and Jon hesitates. This is not a conversation he wishes to have out in the open. Which his reaction apparently makes clear, for Tyrion gives him a shrewd look. “Perhaps this is a conversation best held in private?”

Before Jon can answer, a heavy set man of some thirty years old, stirring a cauldron, yells something at Tyrion in too rapid Valerian for Jon to catch.

“I’m not trying to get out of work!” Tyrion yells back with exasperation. The man, who Jon assumes to be the the cook, gives Tyrion a glare that tells him he better not be. Tyrion rolls his eyes in return. “You’d think I make a habit out of this,” he says with some real annoyance, more to himself than anyone else.

Naakia says something in Valerian, her tone playful. Jon thinks she’s saying that Tyrion has, in fact, done this before.

“Twice, it happened only twice,” Tyrion returns with an unimpressed look that’s belied by the smile tugging at his lips. Then he gives Jon an apologetic look. “Unless it’s a matter of life or death, I fear our conversation will have to wait until I’m finished. Is it a matter of life or death?”

Jon feels a flicker of amusement at the hopeful look Tyrion gives him.

“It can wait,” he returns, despite not wanting to. But this truly is something that can wait. Either until Tyrion has finished, or until Daenerys returns and Jon can ask her directly.

Tyrion becomes disappointed.

“Do you need help?” Jon asks, figuring he might as well make himself useful while waiting. It’ll distract him from the urge to interrogate Tyrion right this instant.

The cook turns assessing eyes his way.

“Now you’ve done it,” Tyrion says wryly. Jon discovers what Tyrion means by that when the cook, named Asmoris, puts him to work. Asmoris clearly doesn’t care about his position as King in the North, or even his position as guest. Jon, after confirming he knows the basics of food preparation, is given chore after chore. It’s refreshing to be treated as a regular person.

It makes him wish he didn’t have to worry about the morality of these people.

When Tyrion is finished, he invites him to take a walk. Tyrion also immediately takes a drink from the flask hanging from his belt.

“I’m not allowed to drink while wielding knives,” he explains without prompting. Jon can only agree with that reasoning.

Tyrion leads him to one of the cabins meant for privacy. The room is small, cozy, and as colorful as the rest of the ship.

Tyrion settles down a pillowed bunk with the ease of long familiarity and gets down to business.

“So, what is it you wish to discuss, Your Grace?”

Jon, preferring to keep standing instead of sitting down, steels himself for the conversation about to come.

“The Dragon’s Hearts.”

The way Tyrion’s expression abruptly closes off and the sudden tension running through him reveal just how sensitive this issue is. How personal.

“What about them?” Tyrion returns with forced calm. The fact that he isn’t being lighthearted about this is another sign of how affected he is by this topic.

“How can Daenerys allow children to join her crew?”

The question bursts out of him, his disbelief hitting him all over again. Strangely enough, it makes Tyrion relax a fraction. He’s still tense and closed off, but the air of near hostility is gone.

“Daenerys is a terrible enabler,” Tyrion says with a forced smile.

“They were children,” Jon returns harshly. “They were _babes_.” It would be one thing had the children been almost grown, but to allow babes to remain in an active pirate fleet? How could Daenerys do this?

Tyrion clenches his jaw, angry and insulted. He doesn’t succeed in hiding his agreement though. At least he understands just how severe this issue is. How wrong it is.

Despite that, when Tyrion speaks, it’s in defense of Daenerys.

“Daenerys has been taking her children into battle with her since the very beginning. How then could she ask her people to choose between their own children and their home?”

Jon stares at Tyrion with utter incredulity.

“Her children are Dragons.” In no way comparable to mortal children.

“Which is why she forbade all others from joining raids until they turned fifteen.”

Jon falters. That isn’t the answer he expected to hear.

It makes this entire issue turn far less dramatic. Yes, Daenerys allowed children to join her fleet, but she didn’t allow them to fight. Jon feels ashamed for assuming that she did. Daenerys loves her people and cares for them. Of course that care would extend to the children’s wellbeing.

“Does this answer satisfy you, Your Grace?” Tyrion asks with a bite Jon admittedly deserves.

“It does.”

Jon bites back the apology that wishes to break free. His reaction might have been a little too severe, but he won’t apologize for doing his duty. He needed to know this. The crown forced on him doesn’t allow for anything less.

Tyrion gives him a piercing look. Whatever he finds is enough to mollify him. He takes a drink from his flask.

“We’re an unconventional bunch, that’s clear for all to see. But we aren’t monsters, Jon.”

The words remind Jon of the conversation he had with Daenerys in Dragonstone Castle.

“Daenerys might disagree with that.”

The words have already escaped him before he realizes that might not be the best thing to say. The way Tyrion glares confirms his blunder. But Tyrion pulls himself together, forcing his expression to smooth out. When he continues speaking, it’s with the same silver tongue as always.

“She isn’t a monster either. She could be, with frightening ease even. But she isn’t a monster just yet.”

The words are delivered with conviction. Jon briefly debates whether or not to drop this topic, but since it’s already been breached...

“You called her mad.”

“Oh, she is,” Tyrion replies without hesitation. “But for the most part, she’s the right kind of mad. The kind that’s ruthless and terrible, and which prevents her people from being even more terrible.”

“I thought you weren’t monsters,” Jon counters, not impressed by Tyrion’s contradiction.

“We aren’t,” Tyrion returns smoothly. “But we could be. We so very easily could be.”

Tyrion including himself in that statement reveals just how much he’s changed from the man Jon once knew.

“It’s no surprise, really,” Tyrion says with a too sharp smile. “The vast majority of Daenerys’ people consist of former slaves who’ve endured horrors you or I can’t even imagine. Even those who weren’t slaves don’t come from the nicest of pasts. Is it any wonder we’re all a bit unstable?”

Once again, Tyrion including himself in that statement holds a wealth of meaning.

“I can’t decide whether you’re trying to convince me you’re trustworthy of warning me away,” Jon says honestly.

"Can't it be both?" Tyrion says with a smile that's even more cutting than before. He also tilts his head so his golden braid is displayed in full. Tyrion, it seems, has fully embraced being a Dragon Pirate. "Thread carefully, Your Grace. We could be your greatest ally as easily as we could become your worst enemy."

It’s a threat, plain and simple. Jon knows it should worry him, but it doesn’t. Not truly. It’s reminded him that he should remain on guard around these people, that he needs to take care in how he acts. But true fear is missing. He’s known Daenerys and her people are dangerous from the very beginning. This conversation has only confirmed what he already knew.

It’s confirmed that Daenerys’ people won’t turn hostile without provocation. The only thing that’s left to do is to find out what, precisely, they consider to be a provocation. Jon has been putting off gaining those answers for too long already. He needs to know the exact risks inviting these people into the North holds. No matter how much he wants to, he can’t postpone this issue any longer. He only hopes his worst fears won’t be made true.

Strange how most of him feels certain his hope won’t be in vain.


	11. Chapter 11

Jon searches for the answers he needs by asking around. The replies he gets are all the same. Don’t enslave anyone. Don’t rape anyone. Don’t harm the innocents. Don’t abuse the power you hold over others.

In other words, don’t be evil. If that’s truly all it takes to keep these people friendly, Jon has nothing to worry about.

Doesn’t stop him from worrying anyway. The demands might be reasonable, but Jon has seen how quick these people are to react when they think someone is crossing the boundaries they drew. Connas attempting to dance with a woman who didn’t wish for it is the prime example. Blood might not have been spilled, but Jon is well aware it could have in an instant. And as Davos said, people reflect those they follow.

“I hear you’ve been asking curious questions,” Daenerys says after finally returning to the ship. She stayed away a lot longer than usual.

She’s wearing a playful smile, seemingly unconcerned about his inquiries.

“I need to keep my people safe,” he explains. Daenerys’ smile becomes warm.

“You’re a good King, Jon Snow.”

Jon feels the back of his neck heat up, not having expected the compliment in the slightest. Neither did he expect it to hit so strongly.

“I’m only doing what’s right,” he says and curses himself for how awkward he sounds.

“The right thing isn’t always easy to do.”

Jon cannot deny the truth in that. It doesn’t matter whether doing the right thing is easy or not, though. What matters is doing the right thing anyway.

“Ask what it is you wish to know, Jon Snow. I will answer truthfully.”

It’s with relief Jon honestly believes she will. Daenerys has always been truthful with him. Oh, she sometimes gives answers she considers to make perfect sense when they do anything but, and there are certain things she refuses to elaborate on. But she’s always honest. He could ask her about the children she allowed into her fleet, could ask after her reasoning, and Daenerys would answer truthfully. Perhaps not as comprehensively as he would wish, but she would tell him the truth.

He decides to postpone that conversation for another time. There are more pressing matters he needs to take care of.

“What would you do should one of my people rape another of mine?”

“I’d kill them,” Daenerys replies without hesitation. “Most likely by having my children burn them.”

Jon pauses only briefly. While he hadn’t expected the gruesome addition, it doesn’t come as a true shock either. Even ignoring the stories, Daenerys is a Targaryen. Executing people by fire is what they do.

“Will you await my judgement first?” he asks, the core of his worries. All the answers he’s gotten say that Daenerys won’t wait. That is something Jon cannot allow. Not even for the aid she could give them in the Great War.

Not when he’s King in the North.

His fear turns out to be true.

“No.”

The refusal is as simple as it is absolute. Daenerys won’t wait. Which means Jon can’t allow her among his people. Part of him starts thinking of uninhabited places where she and her people can settle instead, but most of him is focused on giving Daenerys a look that makes clear just how unacceptable her answer is.

“They’re my people,” he says and while he intended a certain bite, it comes out a lot stronger than intended. Jon can’t help it though. Not when she’s threatening his people. “I won’t allow you to harm them.”

“And I won’t allow injustice to pass by unanswered.”

The reply is made even more brutal by how impersonal it is. Daenerys would react the exact same way no matter who she was speaking to. For the first time, Jon fully understands why Tyrion called Daenerys a war with Cersei waiting to happen. Even had Cersei not made any hostile moves herself, Daenerys’ actions would have provoked her into going to war anyway. And Daenerys would have done it by acting as she would anywhere else.

“Neither will I,” Jon returns just as brutally. It doesn’t matter who Daenerys is. As King, it’s his duty to protect the North from all threats. That includes her, her Dragons, and her people.

“Then how would you punish crimes committed by the people you call yours, oh King in the North?”

Daenerys’ demand is a naked blade. There's no true threat of violence, but she holds an air of danger that reminds Jon of the fact that Daenerys is poised to kick out his knee. He doesn't need to adjust his stance, is already positioned to block it. Both of them stand like this without thought, he usually doesn't even notice it anymore.

Right now he does notice it. Right now he remembers that the Pirate Queen has earned her reputation of manslaughter. 

Jon answers the Pirate Queen with the truth.

“I’d start by giving them a trial.” The punishment would depend on the outcome.

Daenerys raises a brow with surprise, the air of danger as gone as fast as it had appeared. Then she lets out a considering hum and gives him a pensive look.

“I will allow them a trial first,” she says as though it’s a grand concession. “But make no mistake, King in the North. Should I be dissatisfied with the punishment you decide on, I will deliver my own.”

The mockery of a concession isn’t nearly enough. What punishment does she consider satisfactory? What about mitigating factors? The circumstances leading up to the act?

So he asks. He questions Daenerys on situations that might occur, demands she share examples of the different punishments she’s meted out herself. Both to others and to her own people.

The answers are in some ways reassuring. Daenerys is harsh and at times frighteningly brutal, but she isn’t without reason. Stealing out of desperation, killing in self-defense. The circumstances matter to her. She doesn’t kill indiscriminately. Sometimes she offers her aid instead.

As for her own people, while she offers them a little more leeway, ultimately, she’s just as unforgiving in her punishment of them. A fact all are aware of. They know she would execute them without hesitation should they cross certain lines.

Given how her people act around Daenerys, all seem to find her judgement fair. Having heard examples of when she executed her own people, Jon cannot refute that conclusion. Unprovoked murder and rape are about the only things Daenerys will immediately put anyone to death for, her own people included. All else can be brought down to lesser punishments.

It’s those lesser punishments that worry Jon. Daenerys might not be violent, but it turns out she possesses a frightening capacity for brutality. Lesser punishments can be debated, that becomes clear from what she tells him, but Daenerys also, without a shred of discomfort, shares tales of cutting off the hands of people who harmed others, of burning thieves so they’ll carry scars for the rest of their lives. She shares tales of maiming people in a way they can never recover from, and she shares them without even a hint of remorse.

Yet while Jon knows her brutality is going to cause trouble among his people, he believes the trouble will be manageable. For the most part, Daenerys acts according to the laws the North already holds. It’s just that her punishments are, at times, far greater than what the crime should warrant. Normally Jon wouldn’t allow her into the North, or rather, he wouldn’t allow her among his people. Not when she’s so determined to deliver her own justice no matter what anyone says or does.

Normally he isn’t negotiating with someone in command of Dragons. When he brings up the compromise of having her and her people settle somewhere uninhabited, Daenerys says that while she's willing to do that, it'll also mean a refusal to join forces with him, period. She’ll still go beyond The Wall to see the dead herself, still trade with the North, but an alliance is out of the question. Her reasoning is that if he cannot trust his people to be around her for fear of what she might do to them, they aren't deserving of her aid.

It makes his frustration even worse. Jon tries his hardest to keep a cool head, he truly does, but Daenerys’ stubborn refusal to bend on this matter even the slightest bit is making it more and more difficult to succeed. He truly wishes he'd waited to have this discussion until Davos was with him, but it's not like he can go get him when he's already in the middle of negotiations. Which means Jon needs to come to an agreement himself. Right now the crown forced on him is heavy indeed.

It soon becomes clear that if he wishes for even a chance at a lasting alliance, he needs to allow Daenerys among his people. Needs to grant concessions he’d never even entertain were she not in command of Dragons.

Those concessions don’t include allowing her to terrorize his people. If she is to remain among his people, she _will_ come to him before punishing them. She’ll listen to his judgement first. If she chooses to ignore it afterwards, well. That’s where the trouble part comes in.

Despite that, when Daenerys agrees to listen to his judgement first no matter what the crime is, Jon feels himself start to calm down. Things will be difficult, he’s well aware of that, but he’s cautiously optimistic that Daenerys will be able to coexist with his own people without sparking a revolt. Her punishments might sometimes be far harsher than those the North holds, but the causes behind them are just. They fall in line with the laws the North already follows. Jon won’t know for certain things won’t end in disaster until an incident occurs of course, but he has hope.

It’s been a long time since Jon held hope that things won’t end the worst way possible.

With that worry out of the way, their conversation turns more pleasant. Daenerys questions him about the North, a subject she can’t seem to get enough of, and Jon is happy to inform her of its places and people. Of the beauty hidden within its stark landscape, of the people made strong by the challenges of the land. Of the closeness that comes from weathering those challenges together. Talking about his home eases the last of his tension caused by their argument.

It seems to ease Daenerys as well. She listens to him with an attentiveness that makes him believe she’ll be able to appreciate the North as few Southerners can. Or rather, as few foreigners can. Daenerys might have been born in Westeros, but she grew up in Essos. These lands, the North included, are foreign to her.

Jon is looking forward to introducing her to all the splendor his home holds.

He’s in a surprisingly lighthearted mood when they part ways. Even his conversation with Davos doesn’t make it fade. The opposite. Davos isn’t pleased in the slightest by Daenerys’ determination to take matters into her own hands should Jon’s judgement not satisfy her, but he also agrees that it's a problem worth putting up with in return for the aid she could grant them. Unlike Jon, Davos hasn’t been made biased by personal feelings. Having Davos agree with his own conclusion reassures Jon that he made the right decision. The last of his worry over this issue fades away.

Jon should’ve expected his good mood wouldn’t last.

It starts out fine. He has dinner with his men, and after finishing, he settles himself with his back to a wall and enjoys the sight of his people having fun. Some are still seated at the table, talking with Davos, but most have joined Daenerys’ people at other tables. Daenerys herself is, for once, eating while seated down as well. She’s listening attentively to an older woman, Ura Tik, who seems to be weaving some kind of tale. Ura Tik is making exaggerated expressions and her hands are moving animatedly through the air, the light of the lanterns catching on her many rings. She doesn’t wear as many as Daenerys does, but it comes close.

Whatever the tale is about, it’s a funny one, smiles and laughter regularly breaking free. Even the Unsullied listening in are wearing expressions a little softer than their usual granite state.

Then Tyrion joins him.

“I hope I didn’t scare you too badly earlier,” he says with a cheerful smile while sitting down besides him. The words were spoken rather loudly, to ensure they were heard over the conversation filling the air.

“It takes more than that to scare me,” Jon returns in the same raised voice. While Davos and his men might be able to hear him, his and Tyrion’s conversation is fairly private. The benefits of a noisy room.

“Great,” Tyrion says with more than a little relief. “For a moment I worried I’d ruined things.”

“Does that mean you’re in favor of an alliance?” That would be a great boon.

“Very much so.”

While Jon half expected Tyrion to be in favor, he hadn’t expected a reaction as strong as this. He glances at Davos, but while Davos acknowledge his look, he makes no move to join him. Which means he didn’t hear what Tyrion just said.

“Why the enthusiasm?” Jon asks, returning his gaze to Tyrion instead of signalling Davos to come over. He can inform Davos about what’s being said later on.

“Because as I understand it, the Kingdom of the North is the closest thing to a neutral party the Seven Kingdoms currently has.”

Well. Tyrion isn’t wrong. Even so.

“If Cersei has her way, we won’t remain neutral for long.”

Jon truly hopes that Cersei will be defeated before it comes to that, but given the way his luck goes, she’ll emerge victorious from the civil war instead. Then she’ll turn her attention to the North. Sansa insists this is why they need to ally with the others now, why they need to join forces and defeat Cersei before that can happen. Jon understands her reasoning but he still disagrees with it. If they join the Southern Alliance, if they march on The Riverlands, they’re going to lose far more than they can spare, both in manpower and supplies. If Cersei turns her attention towards them after being weakened, however, if they force her into the North where they’ll have the home advantage, they might be able to minimize their losses. Especially if they can disrupt her supply chains through their forces in The Vale.

Of course, Jon is fairly certain that by the time there’s a clear victor in the struggle for the Iron Throne, the Great War will have arrived in full. That might be enough to make even Cersei ally with them instead. The dead pose a threat to all.

He can actually hear Sansa snap at him to stop being a fool. Cersei will never ally with them. Not even when not doing so would doom them all.

Tyrion grimaces and inclines his head, acknowledging the point.

“Nevertheless, if Daenerys must be in Westeros, the North is our best choice. It offers the least horrific odds at sparking another massacre.”

“Another massacre of the living you mean.” The dead are another matter entirely. Jon might be horrified by the Burning of Slaver’s Bay, but he wholeheartedly supports that devastation being turned towards the Army of the Dead.

Tyrion pauses.

“I’d honestly forgotten about that.”

Jon never forgets. He hates that others do.

“Still, burning down mythical monsters is a lot better than burning down cities,” Tyrion finishes like war among the living is in any way comparable to the Great War.

“If you’re so keen on an alliance, why the warning earlier?” Jon asks instead of continuing to talk about the dead. He’s in no mood for that.

“Earlier I was far too sober.”

Jon smiles before he can help it, wry humor rising. Tyrion might be a changed man in many ways, but in others he’s still exactly the same.

Tyrion looks pleased. Jon’s reaction was exactly what he hoped to inspire.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Jon. I’ll admit it, I’m impressed. We could do a lot worse than you.”

What a stunning compliment.

“I’m flattered,” he says dryly. Tyrion replies with a mocking salute of his drink. Then both their attention is drawn to the table Daenerys is seated at as laughter overpowers the conversation in the air. Jon focuses on Daenerys’ chest before he can help it, heaving in interesting ways because of her laughter.

“I’m not kidding about being impressed. Never expected you to be this sensible.”

“What exactly am I being so sensible about?” Jon returns while tearing his eyes away from Daenerys, more than ready to distract himself from his ever present reaction to her.

Tyrion waves a dismissive hand.

“The whole thing between you and Daenerys.”

The back of Jon’s neck heats up. Yes, Daenerys isn’t hiding her attraction to him in any way, and Jon himself hasn’t exactly been subtle about it either, but still. Hearing it spoken about so casually is embarrassing.

“You’re acting as though people are incapable of controlling their desires,” he says dryly, attempting to keep his embarrassment from showing. To his surprise, Tyrion frowns and gives him a searching look.

“You can’t tell me you don’t know.”

“That Daenerys wants to sleep with me? I’m aware.” Far too much so.

Tyrion looks at him like he just grew two heads. Jon resists the urge to shift his weight and reveal his discomfort. He wonders what about his words could inspire a reaction like this.

“Jon, you have her  _pining_.”

He has her what now?

“Attraction doesn’t equal pining.” And it most certainly doesn’t in this particular case. Really, if Daenerys was pining for him, she wouldn't have been so stubborn about delivering her own justice no matter what.

Tyrion lets out an aggravated sound and waves his words away, his movements made jerky with agitation.

“No, I’ve seen Daenerys be attracted to men before, I’ve even seen her have a crush. This? This is full blown infatuation, this is adoration and mindless yearning. She is one moment away from composing poetry about you, and if I have to hear about how breathtaking your smile is one more time I might just cut off my own ears.”

Jon stares. Tyrion’s words are... ridiculous. Absolutely and utterly ridiculous.

“We’ve only just met,” he hears himself say, a completely irrelevant statement. It doesn’t matter that they’ve only just met because Daenerys isn’t pining for him.

“Daenerys is impulsive,” Tyrion snaps, even more worked up than before. “She isn’t fickle.”

Jon tries to tell Tyrion how absurd he’s being but his voice seems to have deserted him. He can’t believe he’s even having this conversation in the first place.

Tyrion lets out another aggravated sound and rubs his eyes like he’s hoping to wake from a bad dream.

“I thought you knew,” he says with a despair that succeeds in pulling Jon out of his shock. The words were barely audible over the noise, Tyrion speaking to himself, but the despair came through clearly. “How could you not, anyone with eyes knows. I thought you knew and were being sensible anyway.”

“Tyrion, you’re being ridiculous,” he says firmly. Daenerys isn’t pining for him.

“You’ve seen Drogon carry how many people exactly?” Tyrion snaps back and it throws Jon into chaos once more. He thought Daenerys offered that flight out of gratitude for the stories he shared about Maester Aemon, and maybe she did, maybe that was part of her motivation.

Except he’s seen how much she indulges her Dragons, seen how she never asks them to do anything she knows they’ll dislike. Gratitude alone isn’t enough for her to ignore Drogon’s feelings on the matter.

Gratitude combined with infatuation might be.

“Please tell me this won’t change how you act with her,” Tyrion begs but Jon is still struggling with the revelation that Daenerys’ feelings for him go deeper than the mere physical.

And suddenly the room feels suffocating, the walls and people pressing in from all sides.

“I need some air,” he blurts out before getting up and moving away as fast he can without seeming to flee. He ignores the worried look Davos gives him.

He fails to ignore the way Daenerys’ eyes never leave him.

Being outside doesn’t help as much as he’d hoped. The fresh air does clear his thoughts a little, but that only means his worry has room to grow.

Daenerys likes him. She likes him in a romantic way, she wishes to deepen their relationship. Not merely turn it physical, she wishes to deepen it on a personal level. How is he supposed to handle that?

These thoughts are bad enough already, but to make matters worse, Daenerys joins him on deck.

“Are you feeling unwell?” she asks with a worried frown. Jon opens his mouth with the intention to say he’s fine.

“Why do you like me?”

He did not mean to ask that.

Both of Daenerys’ brows fly up with surprise. Understandable. His question couldn’t be more random.

Before Jon can take his question back, Daenerys answers it.

“I like you because you’re kind and courteous. Because you treat my children like Dragons instead of beasts. Because you respect my people even though you find us odd. Because you love your home and wish to protect it.”

Jon’s chest is too tight, the answer far deeper than any he expected. Far more meaningful. Something of his feelings must show because Daenerys turns frighteningly gentle. The moonlight already makes her seem soft, but now there's a warmth to her that feels dangerous in ways he can't describe. 

“I like you because you’ve never feared me. Because you stand up for what you believe in. Because you agree with my convictions even when you disagree with my actions. Because you’ve gifted me stories of my family. Because your smile steals my very breath. I like you for a great many reasons, Jon Snow.”

Jon’s chest is even tighter, so many feelings running through him he doesn’t know where to even begin naming them. The only thing he’s certain of that Tyrion was right. Daenerys is pining for him.

“We’ve only just met.” It’s barely been a fortnight. How can she feel this way about him when they don’t even truly know each other?

“We have,” Daenerys agrees as though there’s nothing unusual about this situation. “I might yet discover things about you that will cause my feelings to change.”

She gains a faint smile, her eyes too warm and her expression too soft as she continues to hold his gaze.

“I don’t believe that will happen, though.”

Jon abruptly realizes that he’s begun leaning towards her and he yanks himself away. Daenerys lets out a wistful sigh and looks at him with longing and oh, Tyrion was right. Her feelings for him are so obvious. How could Jon have missed them?

Except he knows why. It’s not that he didn’t see them. It’s that he didn’t want to see them.

He doesn’t want things between them to change. Doesn’t want to risk having his heart broken. He can’t risk it. Not again.

Not after what happened with Ygritte.

“I’d prefer to be alone now,” he says in a rough voice, barely able to speak through the chaos choking him. The way Daenerys’ expression falls with disappointment only makes that chaos grow worse. He doesn’t want her to be disappointed. He wants her to be happy.

He wants to make her happy. 

“If you wish. Good night, Jon Snow.”

“Good night, Daenerys.”

Daenerys’ eyes widen with surprise before she gains a delighted smile. Which is how Jon realizes that he’s never referred to her this informally before. Thought of her informally and spoken to others, but never to her.

Before he can start to panic over what this means, Daenerys spins around and strides back the way she came. Even illuminated by moonlight only, there’s a distinctive skip to her step. One that makes his hands itch with the urge to reach out and keep her near him.

His reaction succeeds in making everything even worse. Daenerys is pining for him.

With dawning horror Jon realizes he’s pining for her as well.


	12. Chapter 12

The next day Jon avoids Daenerys. Daenerys is confused and hurt by his behavior, and Jon knows he’s being unfair to her but he can’t help it. He needs to be away from her, needs to work through the awful mess that is the entire situation between them.

Daenerys likes him. Daenerys likes him, and he likes her back.

What is he supposed to do about this? He can’t act on his feelings, the risk is far too great. If things go wrong, if they end up on opposite sides after all, he’ll have to battle her. He might need to kill her.

He might lose her as he lost Ygritte. The mere idea of having Daenerys die in his arms as Ygritte did makes his throat tighten with horror. If his current feelings cause him to react this strongly already, how much worse would it be if he gives in fully? If he allows himself to fall in love with her?

It would be so easy to fall in love with Daenerys. She fascinates him, she enchants him, she sets his very blood alight with yearning.

She makes him feel the same way Ygritte did when they first met. When he hadn’t yet known what feelings like these could lead to.

Ygritte taught him how wonderful love can be. She also taught him how much it can hurt. How easy it is to be broken by it.

Jon doesn’t know if he can survive that again. Doesn’t know what he would do should his worst fears come true. He doesn’t believe they will, he truly doesn’t. Even at worst, he trusts that Daenerys would leave the North instead of going to war with him.

But what if he’s wrong? What if the end up on opposite sides after all? What will he do then? He knows what he should do, knows duty demands he make the same decision as he did with Ygritte.

He doesn’t know if he can. Doesn’t know if he can survive breaking himself like that twice.

Not if he allows himself to fall in love with Daenerys first.

If things were different, if neither of them were who they are, he thinks he would have risked it anyway. Thinks he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from chasing the happiness he knows he could find with her.

He has to stop himself. He can’t fall for Daenerys. He can’t put the North at risk like that.

Not when the North chose him to be their King.

Except the same crown that prevents him from falling for her, also prevents him from avoiding her for those exact same reasons. He needs to form an alliance with her, needs her aid in the Great War. Which means he needs to keep having an amicable relationship with her.

He doesn’t know how to do that without falling in love with Daenerys.

His avoidance of Daenerys is both noticed and unappreciated by her people. Where before they’d been happy to put him to work, they now give him cold looks and biting remarks that his aid isn’t needed. Jon understands their reaction but he desperately wishes they would put him to work instead. He needs to distract himself. Davos is no help either, for while he does try to comfort him, it falls flat. Not because of anything Davos himself does but simply because Davos was apparently well aware of both his and Daenerys’ feelings. The surprise he showed when Jon mentioned what happened between him and Daenerys made that more than clear. He knew it went deeper than mere attraction. On both their parts.

The result is that every comfort and distraction Davos offers feels hollow. The rest of the men are no help either, for all have what they need in order to be comfortable. There’s nothing Jon can do for them.

The result of his idle hands is him pacing the ship like mad. Below deck, to ensure he doesn’t accidentally run into Daenerys. She isn’t present at the moment, took off for another one of her flights when it became clear Jon has no wish to spend time with her, but even with her gone, Jon cannot bring himself to go up deck.

He forces himself to stop his useless pacing and does his best to keep busy instead. He focuses on practical matters, thinking of how to best get the dragonglass to the smiths, the different kind of weapons it can be turned into. Focuses on figuring out what weapon would be most effective when taking the training of their forces into account.

Jon thinks of these while cleaning Longclaw with single minded focus. When Tyrion approaches him, Jon realizes he should have made use of one of the cabins instead of merely settling down a quiet corner.

“I’ll admit, this isn’t the reaction I was expecting.”

“Here I thought you’d be pleased,” Jon bites back without any attempt at civility. Without Tyrion, none of this would have happened.

“I won’t deny that this is preferable to the alternative,” Tyrion says like this is just a normal conversation. “Still, this is a bit of an overreaction, don’t you think?”

“Tyrion, unless you have something useful to say, piss off.”

Tyrion touches his heart with mock offense, but his eyes are shrewd as he looks him over.

It only aggravates Jon even more. He’s in no mood to choose every word he says with care. Tyrion can take his games of wit and shove it.

Thankfully, he doesn’t need to repeat the message. Tyrion gives him a bow that can’t decide between being mocking or being sincere.

“By your leave, Your Grace.”

Tyrion leaves him be. It would’ve been nice if he’d done it without making Jon’s already foul mood even worse. If he had his way, he’d avoid all human contact for the rest of their voyage, and especially all contact with Daenerys. Yes, as King in the North, he needs to keep his relationship with Daenerys friendly, but as King in the North, he also can’t allow himself to fall in love with her. He can’t allow them to become anything but allies at most.

Unfortunately, his plan to avoid Daenerys didn’t account for her people.

“Why do you avoid Daenerys?” the Unsullied Jon sees with Daenerys the most, Torgo Nudho, demands with even less of an expression than usual. His eyes contain a wealth of emotion, though.

Jon couldn’t be in less of a mood to figure out what those emotions are.

“I think it would be best for everyone involved if we keep our distance for the rest of the voyage,” he replies in a measured voice, forcing himself to remain civil. Unlike with Tyrion.

But then, unlike Tyrion, Torgo Nudho didn’t cause this entire mess in the first place. Unfair to Tyrion, he was only the messenger, but Jon is in no mood to be fair. Not about this.

“That doesn’t answer his question,” Missandei, standing beside Torgo Nudho, returns calmly. She’s composed as always, but she also isn’t making any secret of how unimpressed she is with his behavior. Jon scowls before he can help it, but he forces himself to reign in his temper. Daenerys’ people deserve the truth, no matter how much Jon dislikes the idea of talking about this.

“I’ve come to realize Daenerys’ feelings for me go deeper than the physical. It’s best for all to stop them from growing stronger.” And to stop his own feelings from growing stronger as well.

Torgo Nudho’s expression remains carved from stone, but Missandei gives him a surprised look.

“You mean to say you were unaware of our Captain’s feelings for you?”

Tyrion wasn’t joking about everyone with eyes being able to see.

“You talked with Tyrion,” Torgo Nudho says. Missandei’s expression smoothes out with understanding.

“Whatever he told you, I implore you, don’t take it to heart,” Missandei says with a smoothness that reminds him of Davos. “Tyrion has a rather bleak view on love.”

“I don’t love Daenerys.”

The words slip out without thought, containing far too great a bite. Jon ensures he sounds calmer when he continues speaking.

“She doesn’t love me either.”

Infatuation, yes, he’ll not deny that. On both their sides. But it isn’t love. And if Jon wants to keep it that way, he needs to keep his distance.

“You fear loving Daenerys,” Torgo Nudho says. This is the longest conversation Jon has yet to have with one of the Unsullied. He can’t say he’s enjoying the experience.

“I fear allowing my personal feelings to interfere with my duties,” he returns with a hard look, done with this conversation.

His warning has no effect whatsoever.

“If your goal is to create an alliance with our Captain, you’re already allowing your personal feelings to interfere with your duties,” Missandei says, somehow managing to deliver the words politely despite the message being anything but. “Behavior such as this isn’t conducive to creating an alliance.”

Jon is starting to understand why Davos is so impressed with this woman.

“I don’t want to give her the wrong message,” he says with forced calm. Not a lie, he truly doesn’t want to send Daenerys the wrong message. He also doesn’t want to fall in love with her. Which means he needs to keep his distance.

“The wrong message such as dropping all interest in an alliance?”

Once again, Missandei hits right where it hurts the most.

“Then what would you have me do instead?” he demands harshly, his temper breaking free.

“Continue as you have until now,” Missandei says as though it’s that simple. “Our Captain will not take what isn’t offered.”

“Love means fear,” Torgo Nudho adds, because why not make this entire conversation even worse. “Fear is good. Fear means you fight better. Fear brings you back to people you love.”

Torgo Nudho not being entirely fluent in the Common Tongue doesn’t diminish the truth of his words. Fear is a good motivator. It lets you push beyond your limits in order to save those you fear losing.

Torgo Nudho didn’t speak of what happens when you fail to save those you love.

“True love takes time of course,” Missandei says smoothly, before she gives Torgo Nudho a look that puts this entire conversation into a new perspective. Torgo Nudho allows him to see that the feeling is mutual, glancing back at Missandei with a warmth Jon didn’t know Unsullied were capable of showing for anyone but Daenerys.

“It doesn’t spring out of nowhere,” Missandei continues while returning her gaze to him. “Certainly not out of a mere fortnight of knowing each other.”

A fact Jon is well aware of. What he and Daenerys feel for each other isn’t love.

It could be. It would be so frighteningly easy to let it turn into that.

“You have nothing to worry about, Your Grace,” Missandei says as though she honestly believes that. “Our Captain likes you, but she doesn’t love you.”

Yet. Missandei doesn’t say it out loud but she might as well have.

“If you tell her you have no interest in deepening your relationship, she will respect your wishes.”

Missandei makes it sound so easy.

Love is never easy.

Doesn’t mean she’s wrong about his behavior harming his chances at forming an alliance with Daenerys.

It doesn’t change that he’s being unfair to Daenerys. She did nothing wrong, yet he’s punishing her with his behavior anyway. Jon doesn’t think he’s capable of returning to the way things were before, but he owes Daenerys an explanation at the very least.

Not if only he could gather the courage needed to approach her.

* * *

 

It isn’t until night falls that Jon manages to make himself stop acting like a coward. He approaches Daenerys. She stayed at different ships during the day, but she returned to the one he’s on soon after dinner.

Dinner has long since been over. Night has well and truly fallen, only a skeleton crew still awake. Jon simply couldn’t bring himself to speak to Daenerys till now. The only reason he finally managed it is because should he wait any longer, he might as well approach her come morning instead. Jon would vastly prefer that, but that would be even more unfair to Daenerys. She deserves to know why he’s acting like this.

Doesn’t stop him from desperately hoping she’s asleep already. It would give him an excuse to postpone their conversation after all.

Daenerys isn’t asleep. Instead she’s seated against Rhaegal. Rhaegal himself seems to be dosing, but that illusion is shattered when Jon approaches and he lets out a threatening hiss.

This might make things more difficult.

He doesn’t know whether he’s relieved or disappointed when Daenerys gets up and moves to meet him.

Except Rhaegal snaps out a wing and hides Daenerys from view. The last thing Jon sees is her startled expression before moonlit scales cover her.

Rhaegal opens his eyes so he can glare at him and he lets out another threatening hiss. Rhaegal is not pleased with him. Neither is Drogon, for he lets out a vicious rumble while passing over him, his tail, barely visible in the dark, whipping out so low Jon ducks on instinct. It’s a good thing he does, for if he hadn’t, he would’ve been thrown off the ship. He wouldn’t have been killed, that would hurt Daenerys in a way none of her Dragons would ever do. But he most definitely would have earned a broken bone or four.

It reminds Jon that if he wishes to gain the aid of these Dragons, having a friendly relationship with the Pirate Queen isn’t just an added benefit. It’s a necessity.

It wouldn’t have been were it not for the crown forced on him.

At least Viserion hasn’t threatened him. Yet.

He hears Daenerys argue with Rhaegal from where she’s hidden behind his wing, though he can’t make out what she’s saying. The relatively soft rumbles Rhaegal replies with are as argumentative and stubborn as Daenerys herself sounds.

Given that Jon isn’t allowed to come any closer, he has no choice but to wait until they finish their quarrel. While he waits, Drogon tries to throw him off the ship again. Multiple times even. It’s easier to dodge now that he knows it’s coming, but Jon knows he can’t allow himself to become distracted. Drogon’s attempts might be relatively easy to foil when he’s prepared for them, but should he get distracted by something, the odds of broken bones rise exceptionally.

Which is why Jon doesn’t allow himself to be lose track of Drogon when Viserion, who was apparently swimming, climbs up the back of the ship so he can give Jon a vicious glare. He doesn’t say anything, but he nonetheless makes clear he only needs Daenerys’ word in order to incinerate Jon. He also makes clear that he would enjoy turning Jon to ash. He would enjoy it a lot.

Of the few people on deck, those who aren’t Unsullied make clear they would enjoy watching him burn as well.

No, that’s unfair of him. They probably wouldn’t enjoy that. They do approve of the way Daenerys’ Dragons are treating him, however.

Daenerys wins the argument. Rhaegal lets out a hiss that’s as aggravated as it is sullen, gives him another dirty glare for good measure, before he tucks his wing back in. This time Daenerys strides towards him uninterrupted.

She halts further away from him than she ever has.

Jon forces himself to stop looking at Drogon. Now that Daenerys has won the right to talk to him, Drogon probably won’t try to throw him off ship again. Probably.

He really hopes Drogon won’t try that again.

“Do you need something, Jon Snow?” Daenerys asks in a voice as closed off as her expression. It makes his guilt grow worse.

“I’m sorry.”

Daenerys falters, clearly not having expected the apology, despite having every right to one. Jon forces himself to continue before he can lose his courage.

“I’m being a prick. It’s not because of anything you did, the problem lies with me. I like you.”

Jon bites his tongue as soon as he realizes what he said. He did not mean for that to slip out.

“I like you as well,” Daenerys says with a vulnerability that reminds him she’s no older than he is.

Right now she looks a lot younger than him. The small voice she speaks in only enhances that impression.

“Why is that a problem?”

“Because I can’t risk my people by giving in to my feelings.” No matter how much he wants to.

Yet even though there’s a large part of him that wants to give in, there’s an equally large part that doesn’t. Even were he not King in the North, he wouldn’t want to risk having his heart broken again.

Were he not King in the North, he probably would have risked it anyway.

“I will not take what isn’t offered.”

The words are firm in a way her previous weren’t. Daenerys still looks achingly vulnerable, but there’s a resolve to her now as well.

“So you would be content to continue on as we have?”

The question comes out more pleading than intended. Jon forces himself to continue instead of stopping here.

“Nothing more than conversation, nothing more than amicable banter, than harmless flirting at most? Would you be content knowing I would never welcome anything more?”

“I will not take what isn’t offered.”

This time there’s nothing vulnerable about her. Instead Daenerys is fierce and resolute.

“I want more, I won’t lie about that. But I will not take without permission. I will accept what is offered and demand for nothing more.”

Ygritte would have. She would have chased him, would have forced to not just acknowledge his feelings but to act on them. It’s how she fought her way into his heart, how she made him fall for her despite how hard he tried to prevent it. It’s how she made him love her.

The realization that Daenerys isn’t like Ygritte inspires overwhelming relief. Part of him is disappointed as well, he’ll not lie to himself about that. But the weight that had been pressing down on him fades.

“I appreciate that,” he says softly, feeling calmer than he has since this entire mess began.

“Does this mean you will stop avoiding me?”

The question is tentative in a way he’s never seen Daenerys be. Now that Jon’s thoughts have cleared, his guilt over the hurt he’s caused her grows exceptionally.

“It does. I’ll stop avoiding you, Daenerys.”

Daenerys relaxes with relief, but she still gives him a smile that’s far too tentative.

“I’ll still act like a fool every so often,” Jon continues in the spirit of honesty, for he knows himself well enough to be certain of that. “But I’ll work to keep it from happening as little as possible.”

Daenerys gains a quick grin, soothing him further.

“Your self-awareness does you credit, oh King in the North,” she quips, the familiar teasing easing the last of his worries. The teasing might’ve been hesitant in a way it’s never been, but just the fact that Daenerys is attempting to return to their usual banter is a balm after the chaos of the day.

“Call me Jon.”

The way Daenerys lights up convinces him that he’s made the right decision. Yes, it’s a risk to return to the way things were before, but it should be a manageable one. They’re pining for each other, but infatuation isn’t love. As long as he can keep a certain distance, as long Daenerys doesn’t push for more, he can perform the duty his crown demands of him without avoiding her.

He can continue feeling lighter than he has for longer than he cares to think about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys, I'm not kidding about this being a slow burn. Jon and Daenerys admitting their feelings for each other is not enough for them to get together. Not when Jon is so determined to do right by his people, and Daenerys is so determined to respect his wishes. So yeah, they're going to be pining away for each other a whole lot longer.


	13. Chapter 13

Despite talking things out with Daenerys, Jon fears things will remain awkward between them.

Things aren’t awkward between them. A bit tentative at first, and it takes a while before Daenerys dares to flirt with him again. Jon no longer flirts back as much, but he doesn’t entirely stop either. Things soon return to the way they were before. Same for the way her Dragons act around him. Drogon still dislikes him, even more so than before, but Rhaegal and Viserion soon forgive him for his behavior. Viserion returns to not caring about him one way or another, while Rhaegal turns curious again. Daenerys’ people relax again as well. They approve of how he’s acting.

Davos doesn’t approve.

“Your Grace, with all due respect, you’re being an idiot.”

“Your respect is noted,” Jon returns dryly, not truly annoyed but still disappointed. He thought Davos would approve of the way he’s handling this.

“You want an alliance with the Pirate Queen,” Davos returns firmly, convinced he’s in the right. “The Pirate Queen is head over heels for you, and you’re head over heels for her in turn. Ignoring what’s between you two is foolish as both man and King.”

And here Jon thought Davos’ reaction was motivated solely by a desire to see Jon happy.

“It’s because I’m King that I’m ignoring it,” Jon returns with a certain bite. Letting Davos know he isn’t pleased with the way he’s acting. “I’m already biased towards her. How much worse will I be blinded should I deepen our relationship?”

He thought Davos would understand that. Daenerys is good and kind, but she also possesses a streak of brutality that bends the knee to no one. She might claim not to be a Queen, but she acts like one wherever she goes. She forces her own laws on whatever land she encounters, she treats every person as her subject whether they want to or not. Jon knows that if he were to point this out to her, Daenerys would say she doesn’t consider his people to be her subjects in any way. She doesn’t consider any people hers except those who choose to follow her. She merely won’t allow injustice to pass by unanswered.

Daenerys, Jon has come to realize, holds to a certain amount of double standards. She values freedom above all else, believes the right to it is one shared by all. She believes people should be allowed to make their own choices.

And if they choose to harm others, Daenerys will choose to destroy them in turn. She'd see no discrepancy between that and the beliefs she holds, wouldn't consider herself to be taking away their choices with the threat of brutal punishment. She isn't preventing people from choosing to harm others after all. She's merely using her own freedom to enact what she finds to be entirely reasonable retribution.

Jon doesn't consider her retribution to be reasonable. Not always, at least.

If he deepens their relationship, he might. Even should he continue to disagree with her, he doesn’t know if he’d be able to act as his crown demands of him. If he’d be able to protect his people as they deserve to be protected.

Which is why he can’t allow his feelings for Daenerys to grow any deeper than they already are.

Davos concedes the point with a grimace, but his agreement doesn’t prevent him from arguing that a relationship with Daenerys would hold far more benefits than not having one would. Davos makes good points as always, though not good enough for Jon to change his mind, but when Davos argues that Daenerys would better listen to him should they become intimate, Jon gives him a look that shows exactly what he thinks of that. Daenerys wouldn’t listen any better. She’d continue to act the exact same way she’s doing now.

Eventually, Davos gives up on changing his mind with a frustrated shake of his head.

“You’re bloody well the most honorable man I’ve ever met.”

Jon can’t tell whether the words are meant as a compliment or an insult.

While Davos disapproves of his decision, Tyrion supports it.

“I’ll say it again, I’m impressed. You’re turning out to be a far better King than I ever would’ve expected.”

“Because a Snow being named King is what everyone expects to happen,” Jon returns flatly. He might no longer be angry with Tyrion, but he hasn’t entirely forgiven him yet either. Unfair of him, he’s well aware of that, but Jon can’t bring himself to act the way he’s supposed to. He’ll remain civil with Tyrion, doing anything but would be dishonorable of him, but he won’t force himself to be friendly.

Tyrion doesn’t seem to mind. He acknowledges Jon’s point with his signature smile and a tilt of his head.

“Nevertheless, you’re doing remarkably well. Not many rulers treat the Mother of Dragons with the care she requires.”

Jon gives Tyrion a look that tells him he’s well aware those words are a blatant lie. Only a fool would act carelessly around the Pirate Queen and her Dragons.

“I’m not joking, Jon,” Tyrion says, serious in a way he rarely is. “Most rulers either treat her as though she’s the most monstrous thing in existence, or as though she’s a girl easily manipulated. She’s neither. She’s a Dragon. Most don’t understand what that means until it’s already too late.”

And Tyrion believes Jon does understand. Flattering, he supposes. While Jon doesn’t entirely agree with Tyrion’s statement of Daenerys being a Dragon, he doesn’t entirely disagree with it either. Ignoring the gifts her blood holds, in some ways Daenerys does indeed act more Dragon than woman, or even more Dragon than Queen. She’s beholden to no one, her people included, and she chooses to act as she pleases without any care for the consequences that brings. She’s aware of the consequences, but she doesn’t give them any thought beyond the fact that they exist.

She believes there’s nothing in the world that can stand in her way. Jon is fairly certain she’d believe that even without her Dragons. The tales of Targaryen arrogance are no exaggeration.

Him finding her arrogance more endearing than frustrating is another sign of how dangerous his feelings already are. How biased they’ve already made him.

“Loving a Dragon isn’t easy,” Tyrion says softly and Jon is completely exasperated.

“I don’t love Daenerys.” And he’d really appreciate it if people would stop saying he did.

Which is why he’s so annoyed when Barristan the Bold approaches him.

“Are you here to tell me I’m being a fool or to applaud my wisdom?” Jon asks a touch too bitingly.

“Neither,” Ser Barristan returns calmly. “I think you’ve heard enough of that from others.”

Jon, despite the fact that he doesn’t truly believe the words, feels himself relax a little.

“Then why approach me?”

“To thank you for the courtesy you’re treating my Lady with.”

Applauding his wisdom it is.

“I’m doing as my crown demands of me, nothing more.” No matter how much he wishes he could do more.

Ser Barristan gives him a warm smile that leaves Jon discomforted.

“Indeed you do. And you do it with an honor I’ve witnessed but rarely. You remind me of your father a great deal.”

The words leave him even more uncomfortable. Even ignoring that part of him still feels cold anger towards Barristan the Bold for standing by as his father was executed, Jon wishes more than anything he could be like his father.

His father wouldn’t have let Rickon die.

Thankfully, Ser Barristan doesn’t say much more. Neither does he approach him again afterwards, though he does continue to speak to Davos. Davos and Ser Barristan are becoming fast friends indeed.

He and Daenerys are becoming fast friends as well. Jon is careful not to cross the boundaries he’s put down, careful to keep his feelings from growing any stronger, but he allows himself to enjoy what they already have. It leaves him feeling a little guilty, his behavior could mean that what he fears most might yet come to pass. But he doesn’t attempt to cool down the friendship they’ve already formed.

Because they are friends. It’s not something Jon ever expected to happen between him and the Mad King’s Daughter, but somehow it came to be nonetheless. They talk, they argue, they tease. They enjoy spending time with each other even without it leading to anything more.

They like each other. Only a small part of that is born out of their attraction to each other.

When they’re mere days away from White Harbor, ice starts appearing on the ocean. It leads to a breathtaking spectacle. The moment the glaciers turn big enough, Rhaegal and Viserion go playing with obvious delight. They roll around the ice, use their claws to turn it to snow and bury themselves beneath it. They use their wings and tails to throw waves of ice at each other, they wrestle with the intention to push one beneath the snow they’ve created. They need to move to another glacier regularly of course, both to keep up with the fleet and because they radiate so much heat that the snow they create soon turns to water.

The fact that the snow they create doesn’t last, doesn’t stop them from fooling around in it like puppies. It’s more than a little endearing to watch.

Drogon, on the other hand, gave Rhaegal and Viserion a look like he can’t believe they’re having fun before curling up on deck with obvious annoyance. Seems he doesn’t share his brothers’ love of snow.

“He’s never liked it,” Daenerys confirms with a fond smile at Drogon, her hand resting on his jaw, before she returns her gaze to where Rhaegal and Viserion are playing. She’s giving him regular glances as well, but Jon ignores both the desire she watches him with and his own reaction to it. “Rhaegal and Viserion have always loved it, though.”

“They’ll love the North then,” Jon says, still failing to contain the smile he knows is there. It’s impossible to remain composed when faced with a sight like this. When he’s imagining Rhaegal and Viserion playing like this in Winterfell.

He’s imagining Sansa, Arya and Bran being able to witness the wonder of Dragons acting like puppies as well.

Rhaegal and Viserion hop to another glacier. This time they don’t create snow, though. Instead they carve out large blocks of ice, before Viserion carefully places them onto Rhaegal’s back. The ice won’t last long, but the blocks are big enough that they won’t melt away immediately either.

“We should move away now,” Daenerys says, her voice calm and her smile pure mischievousness. Curious as to what’s going on, Jon follows her as she backs away from Drogon. Anticipation colors every part of her, making her even more beautiful than usual.

Drogon, who’d well and truly fallen asleep, now opens a drowsy eye in response to the loss of Daenerys’ touch. When sees Daenerys’ mischievous smile, both his eyes fly open with realization and and he whips his head up just as Rhaegal, flying with care so as to not drop the blocks of ice on his back, passes overhead.

Rhaegal tilts sideways so the ice tumbles down and hits Drogon full on. Drogon lets out an enraged roar that drowns out Daenerys’ bright laughter, before shaking off the ice and leaping off the ship, furiously chasing after Rhaegal.

Rhaegal lets out a sound Jon can only call a laugh.

“They do this every time we encounter enough ice for it,” Daenerys says with a wide grin.

“Brothers are like that,” Jon says with a faint grin of his own, watching as Drogon continues to catch up to Rhaegal. Jon is fairly certain Rhaegal is letting him. Viserion is far faster than either of his brothers, but Rhaegal is normally a little faster than Drogon as well.

His suspicion is proven correct when Rhaegal leads Drogon to where Viserion is hovering in the air with obvious anticipation. Viserion might not be one for teasing, but he loves to play.

The moment Drogon passes beneath him, Viserion dives down with lightning speed and smashes onto Drogon’s back, sending both of them tumbling down the glacier drifting below.

They hit the ice with a deafening crack that echoes over the water, and both of them slide off the ice and into the ocean when the glacier tilts vertically. The part normally submerged below water forced into the air by the impact of two Dragons smashing down the side.

When the glacier falls back to its usual position, the waves cause the ship to rock significantly. Not quite as much as Drogon’s departure did, but unlike then, their ship isn’t the only one affected.

Viserion shoots out the water with his signature speed. Drogon resurfaces with another furious roar, one accompanied by fire aimed at the glacier, before he dives down and shoots up with the clear intention to take vengeance on his brothers for daring to subject him to the horror that is snow. Rhaegal and Viserion fly merry circles around him, having great fun with his reaction.

Daenerys yells something in Valerian. Jon is reasonably certain she’s telling them to go play further away. This is confirmed when Rhaegal and Viserion fly away from the fleet. Drogon chases after them, but this seems to be motivated more out of a need for vengeance than any consideration of Daenerys’ words. Daenerys herself moves to join her people in clearing the deck of the ice Drogon shook off. Jon follows and offers his own aid.

Her people are watching her Dragons with warmth, delight, and more than a little awe. Living among Dragons doesn’t stop them from still being affected by their wonder.

“Are you a warg?” he asks while moving to help Daenerys move a block too large for one person. It’s something he’s been curious about for awhile now. He might not have seen Daenerys’ eyes turn white as Ornell’s did, but it’s clear she has some sort of mental connection with her Dragons. She never needs to call for them out loud in order for them to come, and she seems to know when they call for her silently as well. She can also always tell where her Dragons are, pointing out the direction each of them are in even when they’re further away than the mortal eye can see.

“You mean, can I see through the eyes of my children?” Daenerys returns while pushing the block of ice with her bare hands. Her state of undress had already been made noticeable again, beyond the usual that is, by the ice that now surrounds them. Seeing her touch ice without even a hint of goosebumps drives home her immunity to the cold all over again, though. It also makes him wonder just what, exactly, he’d have to do in order to make her shiver. Jon ignores that part of him with what he can almost call ease. Almost.

Jon answers her question with a nod.

“Then no, I’m not a warg. I can sense when my children are near, and I can share my feelings with them and feel those they choose to share in turn. But their minds are their own.”

Jon wonders if this is a gift all Targaryens possess or whether Daenerys is exceptional even among her House. He suspects it’s the latter. Maester Aemon certainly wasn’t immune to the cold.

“What land did they come from?” he asks, another thing he’s been curious about. Daenerys might love hearing about the North, but Jon loves hearing about her Dragons just as much. She could talk about them forever and he’d never get bored. His infatuation with her plays no part in that.

Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion are _Dragons_. Who could ever become bored with them?

“They come from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. Or rather, they were found there. I don’t know if they were born there as well.”

The answer is unexpected. If Jon had to guess, he would have said they came from the ruins of Valyria. It’s the most logical place for Dragon eggs to be. And while Daenerys hasn’t talked about Valyria yet, Jon wouldn’t be surprised in the slightest if she’s been there. Daenerys has sailed the whole of Essos. The stories already made that clear of course, speaking of her being in Braavos in one tale and in Lys the next, but the way she talks of the sights she’s seen, the different lands and people, drives home just how much of the world she’s witnessed. Jon only knows the North and the Lands Beyond The Wall. Listening to Daenerys talk of lands he only knows from tales is captivating. At times too much so.

Which is why he always directs the conversation back to her Dragons or his home when his feelings start becoming too dangerous.

This time Jon resists the urge to ask her how she came to be in possession of her Dragons. He knows she gained them as petrified eggs, knows they hatched when Daenerys set fire to a pirate ship holding her captive. But when he asked how she came to have them in the first place, Daenerys replied that she gained them before she became a pirate. Her way of letting him know she has no wish of talking about this subject. If he’d questioned her further, she would have said so directly as well, but her offering as little information as possible is her way of signaling this topic is one she has no wish to discuss.

Daenerys, wearing the soft smile she usually wears in his company, looks at him as though she’s considering something. Whatever she’s considering, she soon comes to a decision about it.

“They were a wedding gift.”

The words couldn’t be more surprising. Daenerys is married?

Is she a widow?

His surprise makes Daenerys grin.

“I was wedded to the Great Khal Drogo, ruler of the largest Dothraki Horde in all of Essos. He commanded over forty thousand riders. In return for my hand, he would grant my brother the army he needed to reclaim his throne. My children were a gift to celebrate our alliance. They were eggs back then, but even unhatched, I knew they were mine from the moment I laid eyes on them.”

Jon might have wanted to know how she gained her Dragons, but right now he’s more focused on the fact that Daenerys is apparently wedded. He’s fairly certain she’s a widow, given how she speaks of her husband in the past tense, but the need to have his suspicion confirmed is impossible to contain.  

“What happened to your husband?”

“I killed him.”

Jon chuckles before he can help it. He shouldn’t, her matter of fact reply should inspire unease instead, but the answer is just so typical of her that he can’t help but be amused. Neither can he stop himself from being relieved that Daenerys is, in fact, a widow. Jon might be careful to keep himself from falling in love with her, but his infatuation is alive and well.

Daenerys gives him a delighted smile, pleased with his reaction. She’s also looking at him with an underlying wonder Jon does his best to ignore. He fails for the most part, but he does his best. The crown he bears can ask for nothing more.

“It happened years after we were wed,” she explains. “I ran away you see. As soon as the opportunity presented itself, mere days after being wed as it happens, I took my children and fled to the sea. When his people found me years later, they returned me to him. He still considered me his, and he planned to punish me for shaming him. So I killed him.”

The answer fits with all he’s learned about Daenerys till now. What doesn’t fit is the warmth she shows over the husband she killed.

“You sound like you admire him.”

“He was a slaver. I don’t admire slavers,” Daenerys returns firmly, not quite insulted but very close to it. Then she softens again, her eyes locked on the distant specks of her Dragons. “But I sometimes wonder what would have happened had I stayed. I wonder what I would have become.”

She shakes her head and meets his gaze with another smile.

“He was interesting. When my blade pierced his heart, he didn’t look at me with anger or denial. He didn’t even look at me with confusion. Instead he looked at me with admiration.”

That is indeed an unusual reaction.

“Is that why you named Drogon after him?” It’s obvious who Rhaegal and Viserion are named after, but Drogon’s name had been a mystery. Until now, that is.

“In a way. My children had already been born by the time I killed him. I named Drogon after him because without The Great Khal, I never would have gained my children. I never would have gone to sea either. We might have known each other only briefly, but he changed my life more than any other has. That is why I named Drogon after him.”

With every word she says, Jon’s desire to know more about her grows. What was she like as a child? What experiences shaped her, what led to her becoming the most powerful woman in the world?

So he asks. He’s already asked her about her past many times, but that was mostly limited to her experiences as a pirate. He knows she started out with a single ship of freed Unsullied, knows Torgo Nudho and Missandei were among the first she freed. He knows that before her Dragons were capable of producing enough salt to sell, Daenerys earned money by having them put on shows instead. Everyone wants to see Dragons after all.

He hasn't asked her about her life before she became a pirate. Hasn't asked about her childhood. It felt too private, especially in light of his own refusal to share tales of his family.

He asks about it now. Now that the topic has been breached, the need to know is impossible to contain.

Daenerys answers freely as always, speaking of how she grew up moving from noble to noble. How dependent she was on their generosity, how often she ended on the streets when that generosity ended. Jon never would have imagined a Targaryen needing to survive on the streets, but by now he’s come to expect Daenerys proving his expectations wrong.

Daenerys doesn’t talk about her brother. She mentions him, tells him that without Viserys she never would have made it to adulthood. But she doesn’t tell him what Viserys was like. It soon becomes clear why.

Daenerys believes she caused her brother to die. By running away from her marriage, she denied her brother the alliance he hoped for. She denied him the army needed to reclaim the Iron Throne.

She caused him to lose the generosity of their patron.

“I don’t know how he died,” Daenerys confesses softly, showing a sorrow that makes his hands itch with the need to hold her close and soothe her grief away. “I know it was at the hands of The Usurper’s assassins, but that’s all the information I have. I don’t know when or where it happened. Don’t know if it was painless, if he had time to realize what was happening. I don’t know if he was alone or had someone to hold him. Don’t know if his final moments were spend in pain and fear.”

And she regrets not knowing more than she regrets anything else. Jon understands. What happened to Robb haunts him, but not knowing what happened to Uncle Benjen haunts him even more. Is he alive? Is he dead?

Was he turned into a wight?

Daenerys doesn’t regret running away from her marriage, that much is more than clear. But she regrets causing her brother’s demise. She didn’t cause it of course, the blame lays with none but King Robert. But Daenerys believes the blame lays with her.

“Your brother didn’t die because of you,” he says softly, needing her to know that.

“He did,” Daenerys returns with a conviction made even more painful by the acceptance accompanying it. “If I hadn’t run away, he would still be alive.”

“King Robert’s assassins could have still found him,” Jon returns, determined to make her see reason.

“Perhaps. But even if they had, he would have had an army to protect him.”

“They could have still gotten through.”

Daenerys gains a faint smile that eases some of his tension. She isn’t amused of course, but she understands what he’s trying to do. And she appreciates it.

She doesn’t agree with it.

“I don’t regret running away, Jon,” she says, and her saying that instead of continuing to argue about this is a clear sign of how useless it is to try to change her mind.

Doesn’t mean Jon will stop trying.

“If I was given the choice to do it again, I would,” she continues before he can think of something to say to make her stop blaming herself. “Even knowing it would lead to Viserys’ death once more, I would still do it again.”

Well. That wasn’t what he expected to hear. He knew she didn’t regret running away, but he hadn’t realized the lack went this deep.

He would change nearly every choice he’s ever made if it meant saving Rickon. If it meant saving Robb and their father.

The more choices he makes, the more he understands the weight held by Maester Aemon’s statement of needing to live with them forever.

“Why?” he has to ask. Daenerys loves her family. Even Maester Aemon, who she never met and never will, is dear to her as no one else is. If she reacts that strongly to a member of her family she’s never met, how much stronger must her love for the brother she grew up with be?

“Because Dragons belong to no one. Not even to other Dragons.”

Not even when they love them. For the first time, Jon understands why Daenerys is so insistent that her Dragons follow her by choice.

It’s because she offers them that choice. She offers it to all who follow her, but Jon now realizes that she offers it to her Dragons most of all. She considers her Dragons, her children, to be hers as she considers no one else to be hers. But should they wish to leave her, she would let them. She would be hurt, she would miss them terribly, she would grieve their absence as she would grieve nothing else. But she wouldn’t stop them from leaving.

She wouldn’t deny them the choice she was once denied by her brother. Her feeling as though she needed to run away in order to escape a marriage she didn’t want makes clear Viserys didn’t allow her to act as she wished.

Maybe that’s why she only acts as she wishes now.

And suddenly Jon is telling her of his own family. Not his father, not Robb and Rickon, that he still finds too painful. But Arya’s fearlessness, Bran’s curiosity, Sansa’s dreaming. Those he discovers he can talk about with pain.

He can tell her of reuniting with Sansa. Of discovering that while she no longer dreams, she loves their home more deeply than she ever has. Of the inner strength Sansa has gained, stronger than Valerian steel. He doesn’t tell Daenerys of the coldness Sansa has gained as well, of the jagged edges sharp enough to make anyone bleed. Those things make him lose his voice in an instant. But he tells her of the good. Tells her how amazing the woman Sansa has become is. How amazing Arya and Bran used to be.

“Your family sounds wonderful,” Daenerys says, wistful. Jon is feeling wistful as well.

“They were. They are.”

They’re alive after all. Sansa, Arya and Bran are alive. The priceless gift of that hits him all over again.

He’ll be able to see the woman and man Arya and Bran have become. Will be able to learn what has changed and what has remained the same. He’ll be able to see for himself just how amazing they’ve become.

He’ll be able to see it because Daenerys is taking him home.

“I hope you’ll still find them wonderful after meeting them,” he says truthfully. The mere idea of Daenerys befriending his family makes dangerous longing rise. Jon forces himself to smother the worst of it but it’s impossible to contain it all.

He wants Daenerys to like his family. Wants his family to like her in turn.

“If they’re anything like you, I’m certain I will,” she says with a sincerity that makes a surge of affection rise before he can help it. Once again, Jon tries his best to contain it. It's difficult, and he doesn't entirely succeeds, but he manages well enough to satisfy his crown.

It really is strange how there is no awkwardness between them even with the acknowledgement of their feelings for each other. Neither is it too difficult to keep things as they are now. Jon isn’t complaining, but he hadn’t expected things to be this easy. Nothing ever goes easy for him.

Except that’s no longer true. Ever since he met Daenerys at Dragonstone Isle, things have been going more smoothly for him than he could have ever dared hope for. Even more surprising, Jon finds that part of him is starting to believe things will continue to go this smoothly.

Which is why it’s such a shock when Daenerys attacks him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I present, the moment where canon diverged from the show. I've been looking forward to this chapter so much, you have no idea. 
> 
> Also, Viserys was just as much of an abusive shit as he was in canon. It's just that Daenerys left him before she discovered that she's stronger than him. In her mind, he's still the fearsome Dragon she had to tiptoe around in order not to rouse his temper. And she left him before she fully grasped just how much he'd been abusing her as well. Part of her does hate Viserys for the abuse he put her through, but another part of her still loves him. Far more than she still does in canon. Not having him raise his hand against her unborn child, not having seen how weak he is, not having any part in his death, means she looks back at him with rose-tinted glasses. So yeah, her feelings for Viserys are complicated.
> 
> Also, Daenerys' Dragons didn't hatch in her husband's and son's funeral pyre here. There was blood magic involved, though. They wouldn't have hatched otherwise. It's just that these are details Jon isn't privy to. They might be infatuated with each other, but they fact remains that they've only known each other for mere weeks. Daenerys isn't ready yet to share every detail of her past. Jon is even less ready to share his own. But they're getting there.
> 
> Anyway, I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter. That includes what you think of the Dragons fooling around like puppies and pulling pranks on each other x3


	14. Chapter 14

It happens without warning. He and Daenerys are talking, him standing besides the railing while she’s seated on it and swinging her legs back and forth. She happily telling him of an uninhabited island she once visited that held the most breathtaking of waterfalls.

She looks more like a girl than she ever has. She’s a woman, her state of undress never lets Jon forget that. But there’s something girlish about her nonetheless. Something that makes her seem like a Dany.

When she teasingly calls him King in the North, Jon decides to banter back by calling her Dany.

Reflex only is what allows him to grab her wrists before she can claw his eyes out and he’s falling backwards because her weight is slamming into him, is avoiding teeth trying to rip off his cheek before he hits the deck hard enough to leave him winded but Jon is far more focused on throwing Daenerys off him. She rolls over the deck while he quickly gets to his feet and gets his cloak out of the way, only absently aware of the cries filling the air as he draws Longclaw.

Daenerys breaks her roll and draws her own blades, the metal holding a distinctive gleam. Valyrian steel, he’ll need to account for that when crossing blades with her. Then Drogon and Rhaegal roar and it snaps Jon out of the haze of battle.

It snaps Daenerys out of her mindless rage as well. Clarity returns to the storm of her eyes, the awareness that had been missing made all the more noticeable by its reappearance.

Her fury doesn’t become any less murderous.

“ _Never_ call me Dany.”

And then she’s running and Drogon is diving, and just like that, Daenerys is gone.

Jon has no idea what just happened.

Rhaegal and Viserion have a brief argument over who should follow, before Viserion, without needing to attack Rhaegal first, follows after Daenerys.

“I advise you to put away your weapon, Your Grace.”

Missandei’s voice is a naked blade and it makes Jon become more consciously aware of his surroundings. Most of Daenerys’ people have drawn their own weapons, and it’s clear they’re more than willing to use them. Jon has already positioned himself so he’ll best be able to defend himself.

Jon is grateful none of his men are currently on deck. Right now he’s vividly reminded that the people he’s sailing with are, in fact, pirates. Violence is thick in the air, needing only the barest spark to ignite.

Projecting his every movement as clear he can, Jon slowly puts away Longclaw. To his relief, it’s enough to make the threat of violence disappear.

He still has no idea what just happened.

Missandei suggests he rejoin his men below deck in a way that makes clear it’s not a suggestion at all. This is further driven home by Torgo Nudho accompanying him. Jon and his men aren’t given free reign of the ship, but the watch Daenerys’ people keep on them had become more habitual than deliberate.

There’s nothing habitual about it now.

Jon, with forced calm, asks Torgo Nudho what caused Daenerys to attack him like this.

Torgo Nudho refuses to answer.

“Names are important.”

This turns out to be all he’s willing to say on the subject. As though that’s all the explanation needed. Given that Torgo Nudho’s name directly translates to Grey Worm, it might be for him.

It isn’t enough for Jon. Unfortunately, he gains no better answer. Jon first rejoins Davos and his men, all of whom are soon shepherded into the same room Jon is in, to their confusion. Jon quietly shares with Davos what happened, ensuring his men don’t overhear so as to not cause a panic. Davos is just as worried and confused by what happened as Jon himself is, but he can offer no clarity on why it happened either. Or rather, he can’t determine other things might cause Daenerys to react like this.

Davos mingles with the men and ensures they remain calm. Jon takes the opportunity to quietly question the people keeping them under watch. The watch isn’t hostile, though. That’s something at least.

Jon gains no answers to his questions. Some, like Torgo Nudho, refuse to elaborate. Others, like Tyrion, who soon enters the room with worry, don’t know why Daenerys reacted so strongly either. Oh, he tells Jon that Daenerys has certain triggers caused by things that happened to her in the past, but Jon didn’t need Tyrion to tell him that in order to know that’s what motivated her attack. The lack of awareness she showed, the animalistic rage and blind need to kill. It paints a vivid story.

It’s a story of pain. A reaction like hers is born from enduring horrors no one ever should. Jon doesn’t need Daenerys to tell him everything about her life in order to know she’s gone through harsh times. Even ignoring all other signs, her scars alone make that more than clear.

What he does need to know is how to avoid making her react like this again. Not because he’s King in the North, he needs to know, period. This particular incident might have been caused by him calling her Dany, but there are undoubtedly other things that could cause her to react the same. Jon might have been able to avoid being killed but others wouldn’t be so lucky. Even should they survive, they could easily be left maimed for life. Daenerys went for his eyes without any warning.

Tyrion is no help on that front. While he’s seen Daenerys become angry before, it soon becomes clear he’s never seen her like this. From what Tyrion tells him, Daenerys still hears what others say even when overcome with rage. She doesn’t listen to what they tell her to do, but she hears them.

She wouldn’t have heard him during her attack. It was reflexive, it was mindless, and it was lethally fast. Had Jon been even a little slower, things would have ended in the worst way possible.

Jon is frustrated and worried. Part of that worry is for the danger he’s reminded she poses to his people, but an equally large part is worried for Daenerys herself.

He worries over what she’s had to endure in order to inspire a reaction like this. Worries about the pain she carries within.

He wants to comfort her.

Given that she’s gone flying, there’s no opportunity for that. Neither can he put his worries to rest.

Ser Barristan tries to make him put his worries to rest anyway.

“My Lady didn’t mean to hurt you,” Ser Barristan says as though this somehow negates the fact that, had Jon’s reflexes been just a little well honed, he could have easily lost both his eyes, if not his life.

“I’m more worried about her attacking my people like this,” Jon returns honestly, his own words making him do another headcount of his men. He knows it isn’t necessary but that doesn’t stop him from doing it anyway.

“Your people should be safe,” Missandei, who arrived with Ser Barristan, says. Her use of the word should isn’t reassuring. “Our Captain normally doesn’t react this strongly. You caught her off guard.”

“And what happens should my people catch her off guard as well?” he returns with a hard look. He might worry for Daenerys but this doesn’t negate the worry he feels for his people as well.

Ser Barristan has the decency to acknowledge the danger with a grimace. Missandei, on the other hand, seems entirely unaffected.

“They might gain some minor wounds, but they should avoid permanent injury.”

Once again, her use of the word should isn’t reassuring.

“My Lady has no desire to harm the innocent,” Ser Barristan Selmy says. Jon gives him an unimpressed look. Daenerys not wanting to harm innocents doesn’t matter if she harms them anyway.

Ser Barristan replies with a look that’s understanding but firm.

“My Lady has lived a lived harsh life. The scars she carries aren’t merely physical. You were unfortunate in that you encountered one of the deeper ones.”

Jon forces himself to remain calm instead of snapping that he already knew that.

“A fact I already informed His Grace of,” Tyrion says in his stead, not quite managing to hit the casual mocking air he was going for. Ser Barristan and Missandei both give Tyrion a look that tells him to shut up. To Jon surprise, he listens, though he does do it with a deep grimace and an even deeper drink of his flask.

“I know she held no intention to harm me,” Jon says in a measured voice, forcing himself to remain civil. “What I need to know is the chances of this happening again. Either with me, or with others.”

“Extremely low,” Ser Barristan answers promptly. “She wouldn’t have reacted this strongly had another called her by that name.”

Meaning it’s because of her feelings for him that she tried to kill him. That’s something at least.

It isn’t enough.

Jon allows himself a harsh breath and briefly closes his eyes.

“All this because of a name.” He knows memories like these aren’t rational, knows they can be triggered by the most innocuous of things, but that doesn’t stop him from being frustrated. Daenerys tried to kill him, and she tried it because of a nickname he wished to tease her with.

“Names are important.”

Missandei’s statement is sharp in a way that’s at odds with her composure. Jon resists the urge to scowl at her. He knows names are important, he’s a damn Snow. He’s just venting his frustration. Is it too much to ask to let himself be angry for once?

Yes, it is. He’s King in the North. He can’t afford to let his feelings blind him.

Times like these are when Jon hates the crown bearing down on him the most.

The conversation with Missandei and Ser Barristan is enough to make Daenerys’ people calm down. His men are soon allowed to wander around again, none the wiser about what happened between him and Daenerys beyond the fact that they had an argument. Some of them approach him to confirm what Davos and Daenerys’ own people told them. Jon, choosing his words with care, tells them that he and Daenerys had a brief but significant fight, though not one that should make either of them turn hostile. The men assume he means a verbal fight. Jon doesn’t correct their misassumption. He won’t lie, but telling his men that their Lord drew his blade against the Pirate Queen would only cause unnecessary tension.

Jon is allowed to wander around again as well, and he takes the opportunity to try to clear his thoughts with some fresh air.

He isn’t surprised in the slightest when he fails. What he is surprised by is Rhaegal landing down the ship. Rhaegal isn’t planning to nap, that much is more than clear. Instead he looks at Jon and lets out a rumble of invitation. Telling him he’d like Jon to come closer.

Jon accepts the invitation. Any distraction is welcome right now, and Rhaegal poses the best one possible.

Jon is aware of the fact that all eyes are on him as he approaches Rhaegal. Understandable. Even ignoring what happened between him and Daenerys, this is the first time he’s approached Rhaegal without Daenerys.

Jon stops a fair distance away, well aware that Rhaegal’s invitation didn’t include permission to touch him.

Rhaegal watches him with what has become a familiar curiosity. There’s also a consideration that’s never been there before.

“Any chance of you sharing what it is you’re considering?” he asks.

Rhaegal doesn’t bother to reply, just keeps watching him with the aforementioned consideration. Jon allows himself a sigh, his frustration making way for a tired aching. One that has nothing to do with the physical.

The scars his Brothers gave him ache. Jon resists the useless urge to rub them. Not only would it reveal a vulnerability he has no intention or sharing, but his armor doesn’t allow for it anyway.

“Didn’t think so,” he continues, more to himself than to Rhaegal. Dragons, Jon has come to realize, rarely feel the need to explain themselves. Even Daenerys doesn’t usually feel the need to explain herself unless asked to.

He hopes Daenerys won’t refuse to explain about what happened between them. Or rather, he hopes she won’t refuse to share what other things he needs to avoid doing around her. If she does, he’ll have to force the issue. He doesn’t need to know the details of whatever happened her. He just needs to know how to avoid causing another incident.

A flicker of amusement joins Rhaegal’s consideration. He shifts to a more comfortable position and lays down his head less than an arm’s length away from Jon. Jon resists the urge to touch him. Rhaegal still isn’t planning to sleep and Jon knows he won’t until Daenerys has returned, but he seems content to lie here for awhile. No longer considering, no longer curious even. Just content. Not as much as he is when Daenerys is here by far, but he isn’t showing any worry.

Which means Daenerys is fine. Physically speaking, at least.

“Is Daenerys alright?” Jon still has to ask, his worry making the question impossible to contain.

Rhaegal replies with a rumble of confirmation. Then he aims a pointed look in the direction of the Southeast. Letting Jon know where Daenerys is at the moment. It’s surprisingly considerate of him.

“I was expecting you to be displeased with me.” He certainly was the last time Jon hurt Daenerys’ feelings.

Rhaegal gives him an indulgent look, perfectly conveying he considers Jon a moron for expecting that. An endearing one, but a moron nonetheless. It makes a flicker of humor rise, something Jon never expected to feel in his current state.

“I’m not sure whether to take that as as insult or a compliment.” On one hand, Rhaegal thinks him a moron. On the other, he finds him to be an endearing one. Being thought of as endearing by a Dragon is incredibly flattering indeed.

Jon passes the time by conversing with Rhaegal. He’s done it before, but never without Daenerys, and he usually directs his inquiries towards her instead of her Dragons. More chance of getting an answer that way.

He discovers Rhaegal feels far less of a need to reply to him than he does for Daenerys. He listens, and he replies when it pleases him, but he doesn’t bother to react to most of what Jon is saying. Admittedly, his lack of reaction might be caused by just how much Jon is talking. Daenerys speaks to her Dragons whenever she feels like it, and they do the same in turn, but overall, she and her children converse surprisingly little. Jon supposes there’s no real need for it when they already share a connection that goes deeper than conversation alone could ever create.

It doesn’t take long for Rhaegal to take to the skies again. Dragons spend the majority of their time flying.

Without Rhaegal to distract him, Jon returns to worrying. Rhaegal offers him a distraction twice more, something Jon is more grateful for than he can put into words, but overall, he’s left worrying.

It isn’t until dinner has already passed that Daenerys returns. At first Jon thinks Rhaegal has touched down the ship again, but when an Unsullied marches into the room and goes straight to Missandei, he realizes it’s Drogon instead. Jon forces himself to remain seated with his men instead of going after Missandei when she and others, Tyrion, Ser Barristan and Torgo Nudho among them, quickly depart to go meet Daenerys. Jon feels the ship rock with a Dragon climbing up the rear, though whoever it is doesn’t stay on for long. Even the ships meant for Dragons are not meant to hold two of them at the same time.

It feels like an eternity has passed before Torgo Nudho returns and tells him Daenerys wishes to speak with him.

When Jon comes on deck, he finds Drogon curled around Daenerys, his wing hiding her from view. There’s a strange sound in the air, and Jon soon realizes it’s coming from Drogon. It’s not a purr in any way but it’s the closest thing Jon can think to compare it out.

It’s a sound meant to soothe.

Daenerys is alone with Drogon, her people keeping a respectable distance. Tyrion is looking at him with worry, and Ser Barristan is doing so with encouragement, but all others not Unsullied are watching him in a way that makes clear they won’t hesitate to interfere should he hurt Daenerys again.

Drogon gives him a glare when Jon nears, but it’s more habitual than anything else. It’s clear all his focus is on Daenerys. On comforting her.

He moves his wing so Jon can see Daenerys.

Daenerys is standing besides Drogon’s head, a hand rapidly drumming over his scales and tension infusing every part of her. She doesn’t look at him beyond a quick glance as he approaches, but her hand drums over Drogon’s scales even faster. She’s nervous and anxious. Fearful, even.

Jon halts next to Daenerys, careful to keep a certain distance between them. He doesn’t want her to feel intimidated by him coming too near. Being intimidated by his proximity is not something he’d ever expected from Daenerys, but right now her fear is unmistakable.

“I’m sorry,” she blurts out without looking at him. “I didn’t mean to attack you.”

“I know,” he says softly, the need to comfort her so much greater now that she’s standing in front of him. Now that he can see just how affected she is by the scars she carries.

Daenerys gives him a quick glance but seems incapable of holding his gaze for longer than a moment. Despite how much he wishes to comfort her, the need to know how to keep this from happening again comes first.

“Why did you?”

Jon realizes just how badly he worded his inquiry after it’s already escaped him. Before he can elaborate, Daenerys darts another glance at him and Jon realizes what about her countenance is bothering him the most.

Daenerys is ashamed. Jon hadn’t known she was capable of that.

“I told you I ran away,” she says, her voice halting and uncertain. “I fled to the sea. Dothraki fear the sea, they wouldn’t follow me there. Neither could The Usurper’s assassins find me. Not if I kept moving.”

She falls silent and Jon realizes what she’s trying to tell him. What she’s trying to share.

“You don’t need to tell me this, Daenerys,” he says, wishing she would look at him so she could see his sincerity. “I just need to know how to avoid making you react like that again, nothing more.”

“I want to tell you,” she says with another glance at him, and the statement steals Jon’s voice. She doesn’t need to share this with him, she truly doesn’t.

He wants her to share this with him. Wants to know what pain she carries.

He wants to know how to comfort her.

“I bought passage on a ship,” she continues determinedly. She’s still anxious and afraid, still uncertain and ashamed. But it’s clear she does want to tell him this. “To Lys, or maybe Tyrosh. I can’t remember, really.”

When she falls silent again, Jon can’t help but step closer. It makes Daenerys glance at him, even more anxious than before and Jon knows he should speak up, knows he should repeat that she doesn’t need to tell him this.

His voice refuses to obey his commands.

“The ship was seized by pirates. By slavers. The captain...”

Daenerys’ lips curl back in a snarl and all her fear and shame disappear beneath vicious hatred. Beneath the blind fury that led to her attacking him in the first place.

“The captain took an interest in me.”

Her voice isn’t halting now. It’s low and vicious, full of the rage only slavery can inspire.

The rage is personal. The realization of just why that is makes dawning horror rise.

“He claimed me for his own, and he wanted to know my name. When I refused to give it, he starved me. I knew I couldn’t hold out forever, but I still had no intention of giving him my true name. So I gave him the name my brother called me instead. I gave him the name Dany.”

Daenerys glances at him again and whatever she finds makes her fury dim, just a little. Just enough for shame to return.

There's regret there as well.

“In hindsight, I should have given him a different one.”

It clear Daenerys is waiting for him to say something and Jon tries, he really does, but he’s still caught by the realization of what happened to Daenerys, caught by the sudden understanding of why she acts the way she does.

Daenerys was once a slave. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, there were so many signs she never bothered to hide. She didn’t talk about it, but she never bothered to hide it either. The scars on her back, her personal hatred of slavery, her insistence that she will not take what isn’t offered. All of it is born from when she was a slave herself.

“Did you kill him?”

Jon wants to hit himself as soon as the words escape him. He finally manages to find his voice and that’s the first thing he asks?

“I tore out his throat with my teeth.”

Daenerys’ fury is back in full. This time she doesn’t look away from him. This time she lets him see the madness that lives inside her, the bottomless rage that led to her burning down entire nations.

“His blood is the sweetest thing I have ever tasted.”

“Good.”

His reply causes surprise to join her fury. Jon holds her gaze, needing her to know he means it. Were her actions brutal, absolutely, but they inspire no discomfort. Not when she killed a man who stole from her what should never be stolen.

He hadn’t felt any discomfort over how Sansa chose to execute Ramsay Bolton either.

“He had me for two years,” Daenerys bursts out, agitated and furious and clearly forcing herself to speak.

“You don’t need to tell me this, Daenerys,” he quickly interjects, unwilling to make the same mistake twice.

“I want to,” she insists, and how can Jon deny her when wishes to talk of the man who once denied her every choice possible? “For two years he did to me whatever he wished. He raped me, tortured me, he made me fight to the death to protect my children.”

He did what?

Before Jon can do something as foolish as ask clarification on that last, Daenerys continues speaking.

“He was a monster. And I was his little Dragon.”

She spits out that last while holding his gaze, her body coiled so tight Jon fears she’s about to hurt herself and one of her hands curving into what he can only call claws.

Her other hand holds on to Drogon as though he’s the only thing holding her together. Drogon’s purring has grown stronger.

Daenerys loses some of her tension and looks away from him, her fury dampened by shame. Shame, and fear.

“I sometimes fear what he made me.”

“You aren’t a monster.”

The words escape him without thought, but when Daenerys glances at him with uncertainty, he repeats them more firmly.

“Daenerys, you aren’t a monster.” Dangerous, yes, and damaged in a way he never expected her to be. But she isn’t a monster. If anything, her still being capable of kindness after surviving cruelty such as this is a testament to how strong she is.

Sansa is still capable of kindness as well.

“Aren’t I?” Daenerys returns with the vulnerability Jon realizes he hates seeing. “When I become angry, truly angry, I become blind to all else. I don’t listen to reason, don’t listen to the pleas of my people. Sometimes I don’t even listen to my children. Is that not what a monster is?”

“So you have a temper. Most people have one.”

Daenerys looks at him like he grew two heads. Then she laughs, soft but real, and Jon feels himself relax. His attempt to make her feel better worked.

“Most people’s temper don’t cause them to burn down the world,” she says, not a joke in the slightest but holding a hint of lightheartedness nonetheless. Normally Jon wouldn’t find that appropriate, but right now he can only feel relief at the clear sign she’s feeling better.

“You stopped,” he says, needing to convince her that she isn’t a monster. She could be, that much is more than clear. But she isn’t one.

She’s fighting as hard as she can in order to keep herself from becoming one.

“I stopped because of luck only.”

This time there’s nothing lighthearted about her. She’s brutally honest instead.

She allows him to see that she’s terrified of what she did. What she could do again if the circumstances conspire against her.

“Had things happened even the slightest bit differently, I would still be burning down every slaver I could find.”

Jon knows he should be worried about this, and he is.

He isn’t worried for the right reasons. He isn’t worried about what Daenerys might do. He’s worried for her. For how broken she’d be if she does something like the Burning of Slaver’s Bay again.

He doesn’t think she’d be able to pull herself together again. This is assuming she’d snap out of her blind rage in the first place of course, but if she does, if she realizes the horror of the massacre she’s commiting once more... he thinks it would break her forever. Thinks not even her children would be enough to have her return to who she used.

“It’s why I left,” Daenerys continues, repeating what he already knew. “Had I remained, I would have done it again. And I fear that this time I wouldn’t have stopped.”

That she acknowledges this, that she realizes just how easy it would be for her to become a monster, is a sign of wisdom not many possess. That she’s actively trying to prevent herself from becoming one shows just how strong she is. Jon knows her awareness doesn’t prevent her from being dangerous, knows it would become meaningless should she do it again anyway. He knows his crown demand he treat her with care. And he will.

Treating her with care doesn’t mean he can’t comfort her as well.

“Slavery is forbidden in the Seven Kingdoms. We have nothing to fear from you.”

Partly a lie, there are a great many things to fear from Daenerys even should she not fly in a blind rage. But those fears are manageable.

They don’t include a fear of her burning down the North. Jon is well aware that Daenerys is going to cause trouble in the North, but he doesn’t fear she’ll go to war with them. Doesn’t fear she’ll burn down his home as she burned down Slaver’s Bay.

“You do have reason to fear me,” Daenerys insists, and it’s another sign of how part of her believes she’s a monster already. “I don’t believe I will burn down the North, but I didn’t believe I would one day burn down Slaver’s Bay either. I was proven wrong once. I might be proven wrong again.”

“I trust you.”

Jon is only a little surprised to find out how much he means it. He wouldn’t have said it if he didn’t mean it of course, but he expected at least part of him to have doubts.

He doesn’t. That’s a problem he knows, but it’s a problem for tomorrow. Right now he just wants to comfort Daenerys. Wants to take her in his arms and soothe her pain away, but that’s a boundary Jon can’t allow himself to cross. He’s already walking a dangerous path just by acting as he is.

His words make Daenerys look at him with shock and utter incredulity.

“Jon, I tried to kill you,” she says like he’s somehow forgotten this. Jon shrugs, no longer bothered by what happened between them.

“You were quick to snap out of it.” Really, it’s not like Jon has any room to talk about lost to rage. Ramsay Bolton saw to that.

Daenerys keeps looking at him like he’s sprouted two heads. It forces Jon to acknowledge that he’s being too dismissive about this.

“It would’ve been different had you attacked one of my men. I wouldn’t have let that pass by unanswered.” But she didn’t and so it’s fine. He’ll just have to be careful to ensure it doesn’t happen still. He doesn’t believe it will, though. Not now that he knows what caused it. He still needs to know what other things to avoid, but he trusts that knowledge is all he needs in order to prevent another incident. He only hopes his trust won’t turn out to be misplaced.

Strange how certain he is it won’t be.

For a moment, Daenerys keeps staring at him like he’s the most bizarre thing she’s ever seen. Then she laughs, the bright and vibrant sound Jon enjoys hearing a little too much. Drogon relaxes, his purring making way for a content rumble.

“You, Jon Snow, might just be the most interesting person I have ever met.”

The words are accompanied by a smile that soothes him further.

“You, Daenerys Stormborn, are undoubtedly the most interesting person I’ve ever met,” he quips back with a smile of his own. It makes Daenerys brighten in the most beautiful of ways. She’s also looking at him with a wonder Jon knows is dangerous, but he can’t bring himself to turn the atmosphere more formal. Not right now. Not when she’s happy again.

Not when she makes him feel like the Long Night might be bearable after all.


	15. Chapter 15

Jon still needs to know what to avoid doing in order to keep Daenerys from attacking him again. The next day, when both of them are calmer and Jon has gotten his feelings back under control, he asks.

“I’ve reclaimed most of what he took from me,” Daenerys says. “Even that name normally doesn’t cause me to react this badly.”

Because normally it isn’t said by people she’s infatuated with.

“Witnessing rape is about the only thing that causes my mind to become lost.”

“You said you’d await my judgement first,” Jon returns, not quite angry but not impressed in the slightest either. He thought Daenerys was always honest with him. Being proven wrong cuts far deeper than he expected, even accounting for his feelings for her.

“And I will if I hear about rape,” Daenerys returns simply. “But if I see it happen, I won’t be able to stop myself from killing the perpetrator.”

“It would’ve been nice to know that earlier,” he returns without any attempt to contain his bite. He understands her reaction, he truly does, but this is something he should’ve been told already. He can’t protect his people if he doesn’t know what to watch out for.

“I didn’t think it was important,” Daenerys returns, neither offended by his reaction nor made defensive by it. In some ways it’s a relief. In others it makes things worse. “I’m rarely in a position where I see rape happen with my own eyes.”

“Rarely isn’t never.” Which is why Jon should’ve been told this already. Now he has to worry instead.

What else has Daenerys failed to mention because she didn’t find it important?

When he asks, he’s relieved Daenerys gives the question true thought.

He’s less relieved to hear that while Daenerys won’t kill or permanently injure his people without coming to him first, she won’t hesitate to beat them down should she see them do something she considers unacceptable. The same goes for her people. Jon wishes he could come to an agreement that didn’t lead to the possibility of either his people being beaten, or Daenerys’ people being beaten in turn and all the consequences that holds. Unfortunately, all he’s learned about Daenerys and her people both make clear this is the best he can hope for.

It’s something he can live with as long as they don’t do worse.

Jon really isn’t looking forward to when an incident occurs and Daenerys isn’t satisfied with his judgement. Really, the rage she holds inside her is the least of his worries. Her absolute refusal to follow any laws but her own is what concerns him the most.

It wouldn’t concern him were he not King in the North. Well no, it would, it would concern him a lot. But were it not for his crown, he wouldn’t worry about how he’d need to act.

Were it not for his crown, he’d battle her himself to keep her from harming his people. Would battle her Dragons as well. He doesn’t believe he’d survive, but he’d battle them nonetheless. As it is, doing so would be a declaration of war. Not something the North could afford even at the best of times, but right now they can afford it least of all.

Jon presses for anything else Daenerys can think of that he needs to know. The answers he gains are of no importance to his crown.

They still matter.

“I can’t wear bracelets.”

Daenerys looks at her bare wrists and the lack of jewelry is suddenly made striking. She wears enough rings to satisfy even the most gaudy of nobles, has a fortune draped around her neck, and her hair is an artwork in and of itself. But she wears no bracelets.

“Clothes and jewelry, those I enjoy again. But I can’t wear bracelets. They feel too much like chains.”

The words remind Jon of one of the most well known facts about Daenerys. She breaks the chains of every slave she frees. Not merely symbolically, she breaks the actual chains. He knows the tale to be true one, has heard her speak of doing exactly that when she talked about her life as a pirate. She lets the slaves destroys them themselves when they can bring themselves to do so, and she destroys them herself when they can’t.

Her title of Breaker of Chains is far more meaningful now that he understands where the need to break them comes from.

“An enjoyment of clothing isn’t what springs to mind when thinking of you,” Jon says honestly, attempting to lighten the atmosphere on the brisk of becoming achingly sad. He might need to talk about this, but he has no wish to hurt her. Not again.

“I didn’t say I enjoy wearing much of it,” Daenerys says with a fleeting grin that makes him relax.

Despite not wanting to, Jon still presses Daenerys for anything else she can think of. He has to. This incident has revealed the full scale of the danger Daenerys could pose to his people. Not her mindless attack, that he trusts won’t happen unless she witnesses rape. But the fact he hadn’t known witnessing rape would cause her to react like this, the fact she hadn’t mentioned it because she didn’t consider it to be important, is another sign of the madness Jon really needs to stop forgetting is there. Her madness is benevolent for the most part, but it isn’t harmless by any means.

“There truly isn’t anything else you need to know, Jon,” Daenerys says, revealing that there is, in fact, more he needs to know.

“I’d prefer to judge for myself whether or not I need to know,” he returns with a firm look.

The slow and wicked smile Daenerys gains makes him realize what direction the conversation is about to take.

“I can’t be held down when sharing pleasure,” she says in a low voice that makes it impossible not to become excruciatingly aware of how little she’s wearing. How near she is. How easy it would be to kiss her. “I can’t be lying down my back, I can’t be caressed without giving permission first. I can’t be intimate without controlling the pleasure shared.”

That leaves a great many things she can do. Jon needs a moment before he manages to tear himself from imagining what all those things are. He needs several moments. Daenerys is looking at him like she wants nothing more than to show him what, exactly, she can still do, and it makes it impossible to think straight.

When he does manage to get his thoughts back in order, Jon realizes it’s nothing short of a miracle that Daenerys can enjoy being intimate with others at all. The depth of her hatred for rape reveals how violating her experiences once were.

It reveals how hard she must’ve fought to reclaim what was taken from her.

Maybe Sansa can reclaim it as well. Jon doesn’t often think of what Ramsay Bolton did to her, it makes rage cloud his mind in the most dangerous of ways. But he never forgets what was done to her either.

He hopes she can reclaim what was taken from her as Daenerys did. He’d rather not hear about it, she’s his sister after all, but he hopes.

He hopes Sansa will one day find the love she dreamed of as a girl.

Jon questions Daenerys for a little while longer, but when it becomes clear there are, hopefully, no other things he needs to know of, the conversation turns to more pleasant subjects. In this case, her people.

“Thank you for not fearing them,” Daenerys says with a warm smile.

“Why should I fear them?” Jon returns, surprised. Her people might be dangerous but they aren’t unreasonable.

Daenerys’ smile becomes even warmer.

“Not many feel comfortable around them. Not after they’ve made me react as you did.”

Because it caused her people to be willing to gut him in an instant. That could easily inspire fear, Jon supposes, but it’s not a reaction he shares. The reason for this is simple.

“They remind me of the Free Folk.” Dangerous and odd and beholden to no one but the woman they've chosen to follow.

And just like the Free Folk, they’re far more peaceful than they seem at first glance. There are things that could cause them to turn violent without hesitation, but overall, they merely wish to live their lives in peace. Merely wish to follow Daenerys wherever she goes. In some ways they’re easier to deal with than the Free Folk even, for he only needs to keep Daenerys friendly in order for her people to follow her lead.

In others, they’re a lot more difficult. A consequence of them following a woman who commands Dragons. It allows them to do things they’d otherwise never be able to do. Not without getting chased away by a superior force.

No force is superior to Dragons. Not aside from the Night King and his Army.

His words lead Daenerys to questioning him about the Free Folk. Jon is more than willing to answer. He doesn’t go into detail about the bad blood between the Free Folk and the Night’s Watch, but he doesn’t hide it either. Mostly he focuses on the people though. On the world he was once part of when times were simpler. Not simple, but simpler.

He tells her of the times he can last remember being truly happy.

When they part ways, Jon shares what Daenerys told him with Davos. Not everything, not the parts that hold no significance to his people’s safety. He only shares what his crown demands he shares.

Davos lets out a sigh that’s as frustrated as it is resigned.

“Well. Can’t say we didn’t already know there was going to be trouble. For limitless salt and Dragons, we can put up with a little more than we thought we'd have to.”

They can put up with a lot more. They can put up with far too much. Jon will do all he can to ensure it doesn’t come to that, but the truth is they need Daenerys’ aid in order to stand a chance in the Great War. Jon fears what concessions this will lead his crown to demand of him.

He doesn’t fear it enough. Which is why he came to Davos. He needs an unclouded perspective to assure himself he’s acting as he should instead of how his feelings want him to. Davos agreeing with his conclusion is soothing.

Davos saying there’d be far less trouble if Jon would stop ignoring what’s between him and Daenerys, not so much. Jon might understand his reasoning, but if there’s one thing Jon is certain of, it’s that he made the right decision to keep things from growing beyond friendship. His people deserve a King who puts their safety above the desires of his own heart.

Doesn’t stop his heart from longing for Daenerys more than it ever has.

It’s almost a relief to be given the greatest distraction possible.

They arrive in White Harbor.

* * *

 

Only one ship makes port in White Harbor, the rest remaining a respectable distance away. Showing they hold no hostile intentions. If Jon’s raven to Sansa arrived safely, White Harbor will have been informed of his and Daenerys’ arrival, but it’s better to act as though something went wrong. Less chance of things ending in disaster.

The ship they make port in isn’t The Dragon’s Flight, the ship Jon was on the entire voyage. It’s The Dragon’s Curiosity. Far smaller than The Dragon’s Flight, it can sail right up to the harbor instead of needing to wait for the tide to rise. Jon and his men transferred to the ship earlier on the day, along with Missandei, Torgo Nudho, Tyrion, and a fair amount of Unsullied. Ser Barristan remained behind to run the ship in Missandei’s absence. Daenerys might the one her people follow, but Missandei is the one who keeps things running.

Jon walks into White Harbor with Daenerys at his side and both their people following them. Even if his raven didn’t arrive safely, their arrival together sends the clear message that Daenerys and her people are here as guests.

Daenerys has put on a colorful coat, is draped in even more gold than usual, and the braids adoring her hair are more complex than usual as well. Jon won’t deny it’s endearing that she wishes to dress up, by her own standards that is, for her arrival in the North. It also causes a dangerous surge of affection. Daenerys has made no secret of the fact she wishes to make a good impression on his home. What she considers to be a good impression can be debated, but she desires to make a one nonetheless.

Jon desperately hopes the impression will be favorable on the part of everyone involved.

The armed guard waiting for them isn’t the most welcoming of impressions, but given the Dragons circling the air, low enough to be able to interfere in an instant, Jon can’t fault Lord Wyman for his caution. And while the men waiting for them are armed, they aren’t armed beyond the ceremonial. Seems Jon’s raven arrived safely.

To Jon’s great surprise, Sam is among the men. What is he doing here? When did he even get here? Last Jon heard, Sam was still in the Citadel.

Sam is gaping at Daenerys’ Dragons, as most of the men are. Same for the crowd gathered further away. Even those who aren’t gaping can’t take their eyes off them. Understandable. Stories alone can never prepare you for the experience of witnessing living Dragons.

The stories don’t prepare you for Daenerys herself either, for even with her Dragons, her outrageous appearance is drawing frequent glances. All her people are drawing glances really, they look even more exotic when surrounded by his own people, but Daenerys draws the most attention by far. When people can spare attention from her Dragons in the first place, that is.

“Your Grace,” Wyman greets in a voice that’s only a little strangled, his eyes flickering between Jon, the striking figure Daenerys cuts, and the Dragons flying above.

“Lord Manderly,” Jon greets in turn, forcing himself to focus on what’s important. Namely, the introduction between Daenerys and the Lord who will be hosting her and her people.

Except then the person who’d been hiding behind Sam steps into view and everything else falls away.

It’s Arya. It’s his sister, it’s the little girl who’s no longer little except she is because she’s smiling at him exactly like she used to and then they’re both moving and suddenly Jon is holding her, is lifting her up as he used to do so often and oh, she’s gotten so much bigger and heavier, yet embracing her like this still feels exactly the same.

It feels like coming home.

When he puts her down to her feet so he can properly look at her, Jon can only marvel at the woman she’s become.

“You’ve gotten so big.” She has. Where before she barely reached his waist, she now reaches his chin. Still tiny, ridiculously so in fact, but at the same time she’s gotten so _big_.

“You just used to be taller,” Arya returns with a smile he’s missed more than he can put into words, and Arya is talking to him, she’s teasing him like he never left in the first place and it’s a gift more precious than he dared hope for. Jon knows he’s smiling in a way that’s unbecoming of the situation but he can’t find it within himself to compose himself. Not when Arya is here. 

Not when she's just like he remembers her being.

Arya still has Needle. Jon barely catches the urge to mention that, aware now is not the time to talk to Arya about everything he wishes to talk to her about.

Arya’s eyes flicker to Longclaw, and Jon knows she’s just dying to see the Valyrian steel with her own eyes. Unfortunately, that will have to wait. Duty comes first.

Jon has never hated his crown more than he does right now.

To his relief, Wyman and his entourage are, for the most part, still distracted by Daenerys and her Dragons.

Daenerys is watching him and Arya with the softest of expressions and the warmest of smiles. There's also a fair amount of curiosity and anticipation.

Jon formally introduces Daenerys to Lord Wyman, returning to what must be done. If Wyman finds it strange he uses the name Stormborn instead of that of her House, he doesn’t let it show.

Wyman welcomes Daenerys to White Harbor, polite but wary. Jon can’t fault him for that. Anyone would be wary of the Pirate Queen when first meeting her. Jon certainly was.

Daenerys doesn’t seem to find Wyman’s caution to be offending. She’s amused by his offer of a cloak, though.

Daenerys thanks Lord Wyman for his welcome, before she compliments White Harbor with a sincerity that warms Jon.

And then she matter of fact tells Wyman that while her children won’t harm anyone should they heed their warnings, they will destroy White Harbor should she be harmed. Jon is torn between frustration and resignation. He was well aware of this fact already of course, Daenerys’ Dragons are as protective of her as her people are, but did she have to word it like this? Daenerys wearing danger like a second skin isn’t a bad quality on its own, but her complete lack of tact when delivering the most chilling of threats is. Or rather, the most chilling of warnings.

Daenerys isn't saying this as a threat. She's saying it because she wishes to avoid an incident happening.

She wants Lord Wyman to understand that should she be harmed, she won't be able to stop her children from destroying those responsible.

Fortunately, Missandei possesses all the diplomacy Daenerys lacks.

“We have no expectation of being harmed by your people of course,” she says smoothly. “Your Lord has informed us of your honor and hospitality. We merely wish to be honest so as to ensure there won’t be any incidents on either of our sides.”

“I see,” Wyman says in a way that shows Missandei’s words weren’t nearly enough to mitigate Daenerys’ blunder.

Davos and Tyrion join Missandei in smoothing things over. Jon himself confirms that Daenerys’ Dragons truly are harmless unless provoked. Lord Wyman still isn’t pleased but he relaxes a little. Crisis averted.

Lord Wyman invites Daenerys to New Castle and offers her room to stay. Daenerys, as Jon had known she would, declines the invitation in favor of remaining with her people. Wyman is offended of course, not accepting a Lord’s invitation is a slight against the hospitality of his House, but he’s also relieved. After the threat Daenerys delivered, him not wanting her anywhere near New Castle is understandable.

Daenerys is granted permission to make camp on the lands outside White Harbor. With the most important things out of the way, Jon takes the opportunity to introduce Arya and Daenerys.

“This is my sister, Arya Stark,” he says, feeling a smile grow just from being able to say the words out loud. His smile makes Daenerys look at him with underlying wonder as always, but most of her focus is on Arya.

“I’ve heard a great many things about you, Arya Stark,” she says with a smile.

“I’ve heard a great many things about your Dragons,” Arya returns with the fearlessness Jon hadn’t realized how much he’d missed until now. Daenerys’ smile turns teasing.

“Do they meet your expectations?”

“I thought they’d be bigger.”

Jon can’t stop smiling. Arya is still exactly the same. It’s a gift he never dared to even dream might be possible.

Really though, Arya expected them to be bigger? All three Dragons are already enormous.

“Perhaps a closer view will alleviate your disappointment.”

Jon doesn’t get the opportunity to react to Daenerys’ mischievous statement before Drogon dives down, terrified cries filling the air as he passes over them almost close enough to touch. Part of Jon is aware of the people around them, of the movements they’re making, but most of him is focused on Arya, holding Needle’s handle as she smoothly swivels around to keep Drogon within sight. It isn’t the fluid grace she shows that holds his attention, though part of him definitely takes note of that as well.

What holds his attention is the sudden danger exuding from her, the sharpness of her gaze and the cold edge to her expression. Arya is no longer the same after all. Then Drogon lands, the impact strong enough to make the earth tremble, before he stands up on his hind legs, spreads his wings wide and he _roars_. Jon has heard him be louder, when Drogon is angry he becomes deafening. The sound he let out now doesn’t contain any rage, though. It’s just loud for the sake of being loud.

Drogon is showing off. Part of Jon is aware that he’s doing so in the worst way possible, aware of the men scrambling away or falling to their knees, the cries and prayers filling the air.

Most of him is focused on Arya. On the awe and wonder that’s replaced the sense of danger, on her smile of childish delight and her shining eyes. On the return of the girl she used to be. Jon allows himself a single moment to drink in the sight more precious than any other, before be looks to Daenerys with the intention to tell her to call off Drogon.

Except Daenerys, watching Arya with a soft smile, now meets his gaze and her smile turns pleased, every part of her radiating pride. And Jon realizes. Daenerys is showing off as well.

He really wishes she would’ve chosen a different way to do so.

Before he can start installing some kind of order, Rhaegal lets out a roar from behind them, making everyone spin around with even greater panic. Part of Jon takes note of Arya’s skill again but he’s more preoccupied by Rhaegal, dipping a wing into the water and using the resistance to spin on his own axis. He throws water into the air at the same time, the sun catching on the liquid and making Rhaegal seem surrounded by precious jewels. He looks more majestic than he ever has.

Rhaegal gives him a distinctively smug look.

Rhaegal is showing off as well. Then Viserion joins in, drawing their attention with a roar of his own before diving down with a spin. He completes the display by letting out a wave of fire, the flames licking over his scales as he spins through it. When Viserion breaks his dive by snapping his wings open, the flames are thrown off, and for a single moment, Viserion is surrounded by a ring of fire that turns him even more breathtaking than usual.

Viserion gives Rhaegal a look even more smug than the one Rhaegal gave Jon. It makes Rhaegal lets out a miffed rumble, before he flies up and starts his own fiery acrobatics. Drogon takes to the sky as well, determinedly joining what has suddenly become a competition.

People soon realize Daenerys’ Dragons aren’t attacking them. They’re putting on a show instead.

They’re putting on a display more breathtaking than any other in existence. Fear makes way for awe and childish delight. For a wonder none but Dragons can inspire.

That’s the thing about Daenerys. The stories speak of the danger she brings, of the terror and destruction she leaves in her wake.

They don’t speak of the wonder she brings as well.

The crowd, which had dissolved into terror just as Lord Wyman’s entourage had, turns awed as well, and Jon soon hears excited cheering fill the air. He sees more and more people appear as the show goes on. Jon feels himself relax.

Things will be difficult, he’s well aware of that. But for now, it seems his fears won’t come to pass. The opposite. Daenerys' arrival went more smoothly than he could have hoped for.

She’s left an impression more wonderful than he could have hoped for. Jon already knows this day will live on in people’s memories forever, knows they’ll share tales of it for an age to come. They’ll tell their children and their children’s children of the day the Pirate Queen and her Dragons arrived in the North.

They will tell them of the day they saw Dragons dance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Can you tell how salty I am about how the show handled Daenerys' arrival in the North? Because the salt is real. 
> 
> Fair warning, my holiday is over, so from now on, updates won't be daily anymore. They'll remain weekly until the very end, though.


	16. Chapter 16

The show Daenerys' Dragons put on only grows more wondrous as time passes. All three are putting on breathtaking displays, using fire and water both to create the most stunning of effects. Jon is reminded of when Daenerys told him she had her children put on shows in order to raise money. The truth of that is now being revealed. Drogon, Rhaegal and Viserion all know what to do in order to make themselves appear even more impressive than they always do. 

Viserion knows it best of all. Jon already knew he was faster and more nimble in the air than his brothers, but he now discovers Viserion has a flair for showmanship Rhaegal and Drogon lack. It’s not his aerial skill that causes him to steal the show, it’s his sense of timing. He knows just when to add a finishing touch, understands when the perfect moment is to display himself to the audience. To Rhaegal’s and Drogon’s great annoyance. Their annoyance is so great, in fact, that they band together in order to top Viserion’s showmanship.

They fail. When Drogon and Rhaegal fly up together, spiralling upwards while using their flames to create a whirlwind of fire, Viserion zips up so he’s positioned over the vortex before tucking in his wings and diving straight down the centre. Rhaegal and Drogon stop breathing fire with aggravated roars. The reason for their aggravation is clear.

Viserion is letting out his own stream of fire and it makes the fiery vortex explode in the most spectacular of ways. Viserion completes the display by snapping open his wings and positioning himself so he’s the centre image of so much fire it’s almost painful to look at.

Viserion has never looked more pleased with himself.

Daenerys strides forward so her children will be able to come to her without the risk of others touching them. A clear sign that the show has ended. Jon informs Lord Wyman of this just as Viserion touches down in order to be praised by Daenerys. Daenerys does so with equal warmth and pride, petting Viserion as she speaks to him, though she’s too far away to hear what she’s saying. Viserion basks in her affection. He’s also smug in a way Jon has never seen him be.

Jon keeps a careful eye on the crowd, ensuring none move too too close. Fortunately, while people are still overcome by awe, they make no move to approach Viserion.

Rhaegal and Drogon are not pleased with Viserion’s victory in the slightest. But they wait until Viserion has taken to the sky again before landing in front of Daenerys in order to be comforted by her. Drogon isn’t as angry as he was when he lost the spar by far, but he’s incredibly aggravated and sullen nonetheless. So is Rhaegal. He becomes even more so after he glances at Jon. Seems Rhaegal wanted to impress him, which is more flattering than Jon can say. Jon hesitates briefly, but then he decides to throw caution in the wind. So what if it makes him seem odd to Lord Wyman and the others. It will be another sign that Daenerys and her Dragons are here as guests. 

“You were wonderful, Rhaegal,” he says, knowing Rhaegal will hear him even with the distance between them. Dragons have good hearing. 

Rhaegal is slightly mollified. Daenerys is amused. Lord Wyman and a fair number of his entourage are looking at him like he just grew two heads. 

Arya raises a brow at him, telling him she’s surprised but not shocked at his action. 

She’s still smiling with delight, her eyes flickering between Jon and the nearby Dragons. Seeing Arya is a gift more precious than any other all on its own, but seeing her happy makes it even more wonderful than he thought possible.

Viserion lets out a taunting roar, aimed at Rhaegal. Rhaegal hisses a warning back, his temper returning with a vengeance. He’s just as sore a loser as his brothers are.

Viserion turns out to be as ungraceful a victor as Rhaegal is as well, for he continues taunting Rhaegal until Rhaegal leaps into the air with the intention to make his brother shut up. Viserion radiates smug satisfaction as he avoids Rhaegal’s attempts to catch him. 

Daenerys comforts Drogon for a little longer, before returning to them while Drogon takes to the sky. 

Drogon takes care to stay away from Rhaegal and Viserion. Fortunately for him, Viserion is apparently content to taunt Rhaegal only.

“Do you still find my children lacking?” Daenerys asks Arya, playful and teasing. Jon knows Arya has already made a great impression on Daenerys just because of the awe and delight she showed for her children. 

“They’re wicked,” Arya says with an admiration that makes Daenerys turn pleased. “Still thought they’d be bigger.”

Daenerys laughs and it causes a surge of affection Jon fails to dampen. Daenerys likes Arya. 

Jon wishes for nothing more than for Arya to like her back.

He doesn’t get a chance to see that happen. Not yet at least. Daenerys soon takes her leave on Drogon, to inform the rest of her fleet of where they’ll be staying. Lord Wyman will send someone with Missandei to show the exact lands Daenerys and her people are allowed to use, but Daenerys will be going to inform the rest of her people of their general plans already. Jon is fairly certain this has more to do with Drogon wanting to fly with her in order to have his loss soothed than because Daenerys herself wants to leave. His suspicion is confirmed when Daenerys gives him a flirtatious smile and tells him he’s welcome to join the party she and her people will throw to celebrate their arrival in the North. If he cannot make it to the party, she’ll come see him tomorrow. 

It’s nice that she’s considerate of the fact he’ll no longer be able to spend as much time with her as they both wish. The loss itself is disappointing of course, but it’s nice that she’s considerate of his duties.

Daenerys takes off and Jon is amused to see Arya watch her depart with not so hidden envy. Someone dearly wants to go flying on a Dragon. Jon understands the desire completely.

Lord Wyman and Missandei work out the details of who will go with them, before being distracted by Viserion finally allowing Rhaegal to catch him.

Rhaegal, still furious with Viserion’s taunting, pushes him into the ocean and starts wrestling with him. Viserion is having great fun with his reaction.

Jon isn't truly surprised when Lord Wyman and his entourage are convinced that Rhaegal and Viserion are in serious battle with each other. He is, however, surprised when Davos says to watch Daenerys’ people in order to know whether or not her Dragons are fooling around or doing something more dangerous. He can understand the reaction of Lord Wyman and the others, they haven’t spent time with Daenerys’ Dragons yet, but Davos not being able to tell is wholly unexpected. Dragons, for all that there’s nothing human about their appearance, are remarkably expressive. You only need to look at them to know how they’re feeling.

Except it turns out Jon is the only one who feels that way. Judging from the look Davos gives him, Davos was already well aware of the fact that none but Jon felt this way. Which, Jon knew the men still felt a certain fear for Daenerys’ Dragons even after spending so much time with them, but he hadn’t known part of that was caused by an inability to read their moods.

Sam gives him a look Jon can’t quite decipher. He looks as though he’s just realised something, and also as though he wishes to tell him something.

Given that Sam doesn’t speak up, Jon assumes that whatever he wants to tell him can wait.

“I suppose it’s to be expected for the White Wolf to be able to read beasts like these,” Lord Wyman says in a dry voice belied by the tension running through him, his eyes locked on the water wrestling still happening a fair distance away.

“They aren’t beasts,” Jon returns sharply. In part because Missandei and the others are giving Lord Wyman cool and unimpressed looks, but mostly because Wyman’s words were incredibly offending. “They’re Dragons.” Calling them beasts is the same as calling Ghost a common wolf.

To his relief, his defence is enough to mollify Missandei and the others. It also amuses Arya.

“I beg your pardon, Your Grace,” Lord Wyman says, the glance he gives Missandei and the people behind her revealing he’s aware of how grave his misstep was. “I meant no offence.”

The words are aimed at Missandei instead of Jon. A wise decision. 

Things conclude quickly. Jon might find the way Daenerys acts more endearing than anything else, but he won’t deny negotiations are much easier without her. Tactful Daenerys is not.

Missandei, on the other hand, is the definition of tact. She delivers her own fair share of warnings of course, Daenerys isn’t the only one who wears danger like a second skin, but she does it in a way that neither terrifies nor truly offends Lord Wyman. It makes his caution grow, but it doesn’t cause him to turn hostile. 

They part ways, Missandei and the others rejoining the fleet so they can set up camp, and Jon, Arya and his men accompanying Lord Wyman to New Castle. On the way, Jon takes the opportunity to greet Sam, as well as to ask how he came to be here. He’s glad Sam is here of course, but he doesn’t understand why he is.

The explanation doesn’t come as a true shock. Jon is disappointed to hear the Citadel won’t support them in the Great War, but he isn’t surprised by it. He’s more sorry that Sam won’t be able to fulfil his dream of becoming a maester.

“I’m not,” Sam says, surprising him. “I thought all maesters were like Maester Aemon. Wise and willing to use what they know for the betterment of men. Instead they turned out to be stuffy old goats who’ve got their heads so far up their arses they can’t see a bloody thing.”

Jon chuckles, not having seen that one coming in the slightest. Sam smiles, a tad sheepish. Not quite able to believe he just said that either.

“Besides, Gilly didn’t like it there,” Sam says, because Sam is incapable of talking for a significant period of time without mentioning Gilly. “And I didn’t leave empty handed either,” Sam continues, torn between embarrassment and pride. He glances at the people nearby and lowers his voice so only Jon can still hear him. “I... may have borrowed a few books from the Citadel.”

“I’m sure the Citadel will survive without them,” Jon returns with his most earnest expression, definitely not hiding a grin. 

“I’m planning to return them,” Sam says defensively. “Eventually.”

Like after he dies. Or after he’s copied them. Whichever comes first.

Jon talks to Arya as well, and learns she and Sam travelled to White Harbor together after they got word of his arrival. Jon is surprised and worried they had no one else accompany them. He knows Sam can look after himself and others both, and the skill he glimpsed from Arya reveal she isn’t defenceless either. 

He still doesn’t like the idea of his sister travelling with so little protection.

When they arrive at New Castle, Jon and Davos brief Lord Wyman about Daenerys and her people in more detail. They don’t hide the risk she poses, but they emphasise the benefits she brings. Such as the dragonglass she carried for a mere token payment.  

Lord Wyman nonetheless remains stubbornly against them remaining here for any significant amount of time. Jon could offer Daenerys and her people to accompany him to Winterfell of course, but ignoring the fact that wouldn't be appropriate unless they enter a true alliance, he knows they'd prefer to remain by the sea. Daenerys' people are nomadic. They wouldn't enjoy being bound to a single location as they would be in Winterfell. And there's no true need for it either. The majority can remain here while Jon brings a delegation to Winterfell.

Or rather, he could if Lord Wyman would agree to host them beyond a temporary basis. Jon could order him to do so of course, but he'd rather have Wyman agree to do so of his own free will. It'll mean less trouble in the future, when the inevitable incidents occur.

Fortunately, Jon knows just what to say in order to make him change his mind. 

“They demand how much per barrel of salt?” Lord Wyman demands, shocked and incredulous. Jon repeats the price they settled on.

To no surprise, Lord Wyman becomes much more agreeable to having Daenerys and her people remain. Now that Lord Wyman is willing to host them by his own will instead of Jon’s, Jon feels confident enough to let Davos inform Lord Wyman of the last he needs to know. Jon takes his leave with Arya. His crown means Jon was granted chambers with room reserved for receiving guests. For once, Jon is grateful for his crown. He and Arya are _finally_ alone. 

The moment the door closes behind them, Jon engulfs Arya in another hug, hit by the wonder of her being here all over again.

Arya hugs him back just as tightly.

“I’ve missed you so much,” she breathes out, the words barely audible.

“I’ve missed you too,” Jon manages to force out through his too tight throat. 

When they let go of each other, Jon is struck all over again by the fact that Arya is no longer a girl. She’s a woman now.

She’s his little sister. She always will be.

“How are Sansa and Bran?” he asks. Being able to ask after Bran makes him feel even lighter than Arya’s presence already does.

Arya can’t seem to stop smiling. Jon can’t stop smiling either. 

“Sansa is making Lords and Ladies dance to her tune without them even noticing.”

Arya delivers the words with a pride Jon has never seen her show before. Not in relation to Sansa. Envy, yes, even reluctant admiration for the ease with which Sansa carries herself like a lady. But not respect.

“Bran is...”

Arya falters, her smile fading. It’s like being doused in ice.

“What’s wrong with Bran?” Is he hurt? Sick? Does Jon need to leave for Winterfell this evening still?

“Nothing’s wrong with him,” Arya says, soothing the worst of his panic. “He’s just... he’s changed.” 

In a way Sansa hasn’t. Arya doesn’t say that but she doesn’t need to. The message comes through loud and clear. Given how much Sansa has changed from the girl she used to be, hearing Bran has changed even more so is worrying.

It isn’t a problem. Bran is alive. No matter what happened to him, no matter what he’s become, he’s still their brother. That’s all that truly matters.

Arya feels the same, for she gains a wry smile.

“Not that I have room to talk. I’ve changed a lot as well.”

Jon bites back the instinctive denial that wishes to escape. It would be a lie. The skill he glimpsed before, the immediate readiness to defend herself. Arya has changed.

She hasn’t changed in the ways that matter most. She’s still fearless. She still teases him.

She still has the same smile.

And Jon realises he’s forgotten to ask something very important.

“How are you, Arya?” Is she healthy? Happy? He hadn’t thought to ask because she’s here and she seems fine, but now that he’s asked, the need to know is unbearable.

Arya’s smile softens.

“Fine now that I’m with you.”

How can Jon do anything but pull her close again after an answer like that?

“I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you,” he manages to force out, a regret he couldn’t allow himself to voice till now.

“I can handle myself, Jon.”

“I know you can.” Even without the skill he glimpsed, he’s always known Arya is the strongest of them all.

Doesn’t stop a faint tremble from running through her, noticeable only because of how close he’s holding her. It makes Jon’s throat tighten.

“Will you tell me about it?” Tell him about all the things he’s missed? All the things he wasn’t there to protect her from?

Arya pulls back enough so she can grin up at him.

“I might if you show me some Valyrian steel first.”

Jon can hardly refuse a bargain like that. He obligingly draws Longclaw and hands it over, watching with a smile as Arya admires the blade. 

Jon has felt frozen ever since he was betrayed by his Brothers. Sansa made him start to thaw, but it’s Arya, bright and fearless Arya, who makes him feel warm again in a way not even flying on Drogon did. 

Sansa rekindled his determined to get his family through the Long Night. Arya makes that determination burn like wildfire. 

Jon wonders how much warmer Bran will make him feel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, Daenerys is going to get less screentime now that they've arrived in the North. She's still going to be very present of course, this is a love story after all, but there are other things and people (like Arya) who now need to appear. Jon has many duties as King after all. And he loves his family so much that not giving Arya a lot of screentime now that she's appeared would feel hollow. Also, I want Stark fluff, and since the show seems so determined to give us mere scraps instead of a feast, I'm going to work out my frustration with giving Jon the family reunion he deserves. I'm going to give all the Starks the family reunion they deserve. Why does canon want to keep torturing them? Haven't they gone through enough already?
> 
> Anyway, this was a short chapter, but I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless :)


	17. Chapter 17

He and Arya talk until well into the night. She tells him of her initial plan to go to The Wall and join him. Jon wonders how different things would have been had she succeeded.

Tywin Lannister saw to it she didn't. Then there was the Brotherhood Without Banners, The Hound, Brienne of Tarth, and finally, the Free City of Braavos. Arya doesn't tell him everything, that much is more than clear. She focuses on the good and glosses over the bad. Tells him of the people she travelled with before Tywin Lannister ruined everything.

She doesn't go into detail of how she learned to fight beyond telling him of the "dancing" lessons she received in King's Landing, something he already knew about from her letters. She doesn't elaborate about the people she joined in Braavos. Doesn't share what she did there in order to survive.

She doesn't share why she stayed. Why it took her so long to return. Jon knows his need to know is going to get the best of him sooner rather than later. It won't get the best of him tonight. Tonight, they talk of the good. For the most part.

"Littlefinger is dead," Arya says when they leave the past in favor of the present. The remark would have been offhanded were it not for the way she's looking at him. Like she's bracing herself for him to react in the worst way possible. "Sansa put him on trial. I carried out the sentence."

The words cut with painful intensity. Jon doesn't mourn the loss of Littlefinger in the slightest, but hearing Arya talk of executing him so casually is a brutal reminder that he abandoned her to face untold dangers alone. It forces him to acknowledge the bad times Arya hasn't spoken of. Forces him to realize she's learned just how unfair life can be.

It forces him to acknowledge she's been made to kill. She's been made to do so many times. She wouldn't have spoken of executing Littlefinger with this kind of ease otherwise. Her ease is false of course, but it isn't false for the right reasons. She isn't worried about executing Littlefinger. She's worried how he'll react to it.

He reacts by being overcome by a desire to comfort her. And he will.

First he has to ask.

"Did you draw it out?" Did she make him suffer, did she take pleasure in his pain?

"No. Death found him quickly."

The relief that hits him is overwhelming. Arya is his sister, he'll always love her, but Jon honestly doesn't know how he'd react if she'd started becoming like Ramsay Bolton.

"Then I'm glad you and Sansa were there for each other," he says, soft and honest. He truly is glad for that.

He also wishes to comfort Arya. Wishes to assure her he won't look at her in a different way no matter what she's been through. That may yet turn out to be a lie, but Jon believes that even if it does, it won't be entirely false either. Arya is his sister. That will never change.

Arya gives him a smile that's more tentative than she intended. Not yet convinced his feelings for her remain the same. Jon takes hold of her shoulder and holds her gaze to impress his sincerity on her.

"You're my sister, Arya. I'll love you no matter what." Even if she had drawn out Littlefinger's death, his love for her wouldn't have changed. He'd be terrified for her, for what she might become, but he'd still love her. Though even should she have drawn it out, his opinion of her could easily remain the same depending on the circumstances. Sansa's execution of Ramsay Bolton inspired no fear over what she might become either.

Arya's smile turns real and it makes Jon relax. He gives in to the urge to kiss her forehead as he's done a thousand times before.

Arya responds by hugging him like she's done a thousand times in turn. Jon isn't complaining.

Her past isn't the only thing they talk about. She questions him about his own, and Jon answers as best he can. He glosses over the bad just as she did, and Arya notices of course, but she doesn't press for more than he's willing to give. Jon is grateful. He's even more grateful when the conversation turns towards Sansa and Bran. Jon is overjoyed by the newfound closeness between Arya and Sansa. He remembers how at odds they used to be. Hearing this is no longer the case soothes something deep inside him.

Not all the changes his sisters have gone through are bad.

As for Bran, that's a more delicate subject. Arya still loves him, and she respects him as well, but she also fails to hide the unease Bran now inspires.

The unease isn't a result of Bran's injuries. It's caused by him having become a  _greenseer_  of all things. He can see the past with the same ease he sees the present, sometimes even catches glimpses of the future. And it's changed him.

He's still their brother. Maybe Jon will turn discomforted as well when confronted by these visions, but for now he can only feel joy over the knowledge that Bran yet lives.

Then there's their talk about Nymeria. It doesn't last long, yet hearing that Nymeria still lives is another gift Jon never expected to receive. Not after hearing about Summer's death.

Ghost isn't the only survivor of his family either.

Jon is relieved to hear Ghost is doing fine. He's even more relieved to hear he's not just quarding Sansa, he's guarding Bran as well. He did the same for Arya when she was still there. Jon misses Ghost more than he can put into words, but hearing that Ghost is keeping his family safe makes it impossible to regret leaving him at Winterfell.

And, of course, they talk about Daenerys. Or rather, they talk about her Dragons.

"What are they like?" Arya demands in the same way she used to demand tales about Dragons long since past, curious and fascinated and filled with a childlike wonder. No woman is seated in front of him now. Instead she's the little girl he parted ways with so long ago.

But then, who wouldn't react that way after witnessing Dragons who yet live?

Jon takes a moment to order his thoughts, to figure out where to start describing the stories made flesh.

"Drogon is gentle."

This clearly isn't the answer Arya expected, but Jon feels it's the most fitting place to start. He could talk about their grace, their power, could talk of their general disregard of anyone but Daenerys and the danger that's never far away.

None of that would paint an accurate picture of who these Dragons are.

"He's so much stronger than his brothers, yet he never uses it against them." Oh, Drogon has no issue in taking advantage of his strength when playing with his brothers, or when taking vengeance after being teased.

Every other time, he's gentle. When Rhaegal or Viserion wish to be on ship with Daenerys, Drogon always leaves. He does so with a great deal of grumbling most of the time, and there are times he argues back, but when all is said and done, he leaves. He doesn't use his strength to guard his place. If that was the only thing he did, it would be easy to say he's doing so for Daenerys' sake only, but Jon has seen him remain gentle even when Rhaegal riles him up to the point it makes Drogon chase after him with genuine fury. When catching Rhaegal, Drogon is always careful to keep from hurting him no matter how angry he is.

He's seen how Rhaegal and Viserion never fear what Drogon might do to them.

"Now there's something the stories never prepared me for," Arya says with that wonderfully familiar smile of hers. She shakes her head with a disbelief that's just as familiar. Like she can't believe what Jon just told her.

Like they're seated at their favorite fire in Winterfell and Jon is telling her tales of magic long since past.

Daenerys brought that magic back.

"The Black Death is gentle and sweet."

"Drogon isn't sweet in the slightest," Jon counters. "He's foul tempered and gets annoyed by the most trivial of things. But he's gentle as well."

"What about the White Terror?"

"Viserion is considerate."

Jon continues to tell Arya of the Dragons who yet live. Tells her how Viserion is the only one among his brothers who's willing to do as people ask him instead of ignoring every word said, of his inner calm and his love of games. He tells her what an arrogant brat Rhaegal is, how he clearly considers himself to the most clever of the bunch. How he loves riling up Drogon just because he can.

Arya is enchanted by his words in a way that reminds him of when times were simple. When she'd come beg him for tales of his and Robb's training.

She's even more enchanted than she was back then. Understandable. What are tales of swordsmanship compared to the wonder of Dragons?

"Drogon once allowed me to ride him," Jon says. Arya reacts the exact way he'd known she would.

"You rode a Dragon?"

The exclamation is as shocked as it is envious. It makes Jon grin.

"It was the most glorious experience of my life." Nothing will ever be able to top it. He'll never again be able to enjoy riding horses either, but Jon can't find it within himself to regret that. He would've been willing to pay far more for but a single flight.

For multiple ones, he'd be willing to give up far too much.

As expected, the next moments are spend dissuading Arya of the notion of riding a Dragon herself. Jon turns serious when he sees the stubborn tilt to Arya's chin. That's the tilt she gets when she's told not to do something and is planning on doing it anyway.

"Don't  _ever_  touch them, Arya. Not unless they grant you indisputable permission to do so. If you touch them without their permission, even with but a single finger, they'll kill you."

Arya remains stubborn a moment longer, but then she lets out a frustrated sigh and gives him a look begging for understanding.

"But Jon, they're  _Dragons_."

"And Dragons are dangerous," he returns with a stern look, but there's a smile tugging at his lips as well. It's impossible to contain it when Arya is looking at him exactly how she used to.

He still makes a mental note to keep a careful eye on her whenever she's around Daenerys' Dragons.

Jon could have talked to Arya forever, but eventually they're forced to turn in for the night.

The next day, duty calls. Jon needs to be caught up on the current state of things, start organising the transport of dragonglass, write letters, work out the specifics of having Daenerys' people stay for what will hopefully be a long term basis, and so much more. There aren't enough hours in the day for all the work that must be done. He doesn't regret the time he spend talking to Arya in the slightest, but his lack of sleep isn't making things easier.

What makes things easier is seeing Arya first light of day. Having her look at him like he's a dream she can't believe is true.

Jon knows he's looking at her the same way.

Arya seems determined to spend every waking moment with him. Jon isn't complaining. After awhile, they pick up Sam as well.

His duties are why he can't spare Daenerys the time he wishes he could when she arrives at New Castle. Neither can he flirt back. She hasn't done anything in that direction yet, but Jon know it's only a matter of time. And he won't be able to respond when she does. Not with all the eyes and ears on them.

Daenerys, wearing a colorful coat once more, is disappointed but understanding when his welcome is more formal than usual, something Jon truly appreciates. He's also surprised by it, though he supposes he shouldn't be. Daenerys always respects the decisions he makes. She doesn't always agree with them, but she respects them.

Jon has the perfect gift to express his gratitude for her understanding.

"This is Samwell Tarly."

As expected, Daenerys lights up. She darts over to Sam and leans far closer than she usually does to anyone not her close friends or Jon. She looks like it's taking all her strength not to grab hold of Sam. She looks ravenous.

She doesn't look at Sam with desire. Not the carnal kind at least. Jon is grateful. Jealousy on top of his already complicated feelings for Daenerys is something he can definitely do without.

His relief doesn't stop him from struggling to keep his thoughts out of the gutter when she speaks in a breathless voice.

"You knew my great-uncle."

"Uhm," Sam says, eyes locked onto the bejewelled chest in front of him and the faint blush Daenerys arrival had already inspired darkening further. Jon feels a smile tug at his lips, amused at how completely off kilter Sam is by the storm that is Daenerys.

"Will you tell me about him?" Daenerys continues in the breathless voice that inspires a by now familiar reaction. Sam shoots him a panicked look.

"You knew Maester Aemon better than I did," Jon says, earnest and sincere and definitely not yanking Sam's chain on purpose. Sam snaps out of his shock and shakes his head to clear his thoughts.

"I– yes, yes of course I'll tell you about him."

Sam meets Daenerys' gaze head on, regaining his confidence.

"He was a great man."

Daenerys gains a breathtaking smile. Jon is glad to see her so happy.

To his surprise, Daenerys informs him that her people are on their way to work out a trade agreement between their people. While he'd expected that to happen, he hadn't expected it to happen later today at the earliest. This agreement won't be a lasting one, not yet, but they're coming to work out the details for trade on a contemporary basis.

Given that Daenerys' people are coming over by horse instead of Dragon, Jon invites Daenerys inside to wait for their arrival. He also sends a servant to inform Davos and Lord Wyman of the upcoming negotiations.

The people they pass, nobles and servants alike, all stare at Daenerys. Sam continues to be distracted by her appearance as well. Daenerys herself ignores the stares completely, marching through the halls foreign to her with the same confidence as always. She also looks around with curiosity, examining the tapestries, the carvings, the symbolism hidden within every stone.

Arya, unlike everyone else, doesn't find Daenerys' bejewelled state of undress worth of notice beyond a cursory glance. She does look at her scars, though.

She looks at them like she can tell how serious some of the wounds they came from were with the same ease Jon himself could tell. Jon smothers the guilt and grief wishing to rise. He already knew Arya has been through too much. This is just another sign of that.

Daenerys' blades draw Arya's curiosity more than anything else about her outfit does, but for the most part, Arya looks determined. Jon can guess why.

He isn't surprised in the slightest when Arya pounces on Daenerys a moment after they enter the chamber and the door is closed behind them.

In the moment before she does, she glances around the room in a habitual sweep for escape routes. It's enough to almost make Jon halt his own inspection, despite the fact he's seen her do this many times now. Just like every other time, it makes guilt and grief threaten to rise.

Arya shouldn't have needed to learn habits like these.

His grief grows worse by Arya's next actions.

"Could I ride one of your Dragons?" she demands while invading Daenerys' personal space, though not so much as to feel hostile. Daenerys nonetheless adjusts her stance so she'll be able to kick Arya's knee out should she move any closer. Arya shifts her own stance so she'll be able to step out of the way and have room to perform a counterattack.

Just like Daenerys, Arya moved without thought. Moved in a way that can only come from too much experience. Jon struggles to contain his guilt. He's always known Arya had the potential to be a great warrior.

She shouldn't have been forced to become one.

"No," Daenerys answers simply, making Arya's expression fall with disappointment. It's a familiar disappointment. The kind she got when she was told she couldn't train with him and Robb.

It helps ease his guilt. Arya, despite the pain she's gone through, is still the girl Jon last knew her as. Her next words only confirm this.

"Why not?" Arya demands instead of asks, following Daenerys as Daenerys makes her way to stand besides the window.

Except instead of standing besides it, Daenerys hops on the ledge. Her legs are positioned so she'll be able to kick Arya's teeth out. Arya takes a step back so she'll be able to dodge and have room to go on the offensive.

"They don't like carrying people," Daenerys replies, and Jon hears the part Daenerys never bothers to say out loud because she considers it to be the most obvious thing in the world. Daenerys doesn't like asking her children to do things she knows they won't enjoy.

"You let my brother ride one," Arya says with a glance at him that's perhaps a bit more accusing than she intended. Then again, perhaps not.

"You rode a Dragon?" Sam demands, incredulous and loud enough for the servants outside to have heard. This tale is going to spread in no time. It would have anyway of course, his men will see to that if they haven't already. But now it's going to spread a little faster still.

"There's nothing like it in the entire world," Jon says honestly, pleased when his words cause Arya to give him a pointed look. She is not amused by his bragging.

It's strange. Arya, despite being the same in many ways, is so different in others, and Jon knows he's changed as well. Despite that, both of them have slipped back into a routine that should no longer be familiar.

It somehow still is.

It's a routine so precious Jon fears a mere wrong breath would be enough to break it.

"Your brother has turned out to be an exception in more ways than I thought possible."

Jon is grateful that the way he's positioned himself means Arya and Sam can't see the back of his neck heat up. Normally he wouldn't react like this to Daenerys flirting with him, not anymore at least, but normally she isn't flirting with him in front of his sister and close friend. He knew she wasn't going to hide her feelings for him of course, and most of him doesn't want her to. He likes how open Daenerys is about her every intention.

Part of him still wishes for the ground to swallow him whole when Arya's brows fly up with surprise before she gives him a look torn between disbelief and realisation. She's never going to let him hear the end of this.

Sam, on the other hand, has skipped disbelief and gone straight to realisation instead. Jon sees his near future being filled with retribution for all the times he teased Sam about Gilly. It won't happen until Daenerys leaves, but Jon knows it's coming.

To his relief, Arya saves her teasing for later as well. Instead she attempts to make Daenerys change her mind about letting her ride one of her Dragons.

Daenerys continues to refuse. She seems charmed by Arya's determination, though. Or perhaps by her fearlessness. Not many would dare to ask the Pirate Queen to let them fly one of her Dragons in the first place, never mind continue arguing about it after it's already become clear Daenerys won't change her mind.

And because it's Arya, because it's his sister, Jon has to try.

"It would please me to have my sister fly with you."

Daenerys startles in a way he doesn't often mange to inspire, before she gains a helpless smile. It's fond, charmed, and just a touch disbelieving. She never expected him to try to influence her decision by taking advantage of her feelings for him. Were these any other circumstances, Jon never would have done so either.

There are a great many things he would do for his family he'd do for no one else.

"A convincing argument indeed," she says and it lets Jon know her feelings for him aren't enough to make her reconsider. Not a true surprise. Daenerys might be infatuated with him, but she loves her children more than any other by far. "But my answer remains the same."

Arya is so disappointed. When she gives him a beseeching look, Jon shrugs. He tried his best.

"You like each other," Sam says with surprise, confusing Jon. Hadn't Sam realised this already?

"We're friends," he confirms. It makes Daenerys turn pleased in the most endearing of ways. She might want more than friendship, but she treats the closeness Jon does allow as though it's the most precious of gifts. Jon does his best to contain the surge of affection her reaction inspires.

"But you're the Mad King's daughter."

Sam looks like he wants to hit himself as soon as the words have escaped him.

"Not that there's anything wrong with that, I'm sure you're a lovely woman, nothing at all like your father," Sam babbles while shooting him a panicked look. Unfortunately for him, Jon has no intention of rescuing him. He would have had Daenerys seem offended, but she seems more amused than anything else. "Except for the part where you've killed a lot of people and I mean a  _lot_  of people. Which is fine! Well no, it isn't, killing is never fine, but I'm sure you had your reasons, though I can't imagine reasons good enough to kill as many as you have even if you did mostly go after slavers– when did you say your people were arriving again?"

Jon can't help but grin. He's missed Sam.

He's glad Daenerys seems to like Sam. Though her reaction might have something to do with him grinning at Sam's behaviour. It causes Daenerys to look at him with underlying wonder as always.

Arya's eyes flicker between him and Daenerys, her disbelief not entirely gone yet. Jon ensures he reveals nothing of his own feelings for Daenerys beyond the friendship he's already admitted to.

Lord Wyman, Wyman's advisers, and Davos soon join them, making Sam, the only one who'd sat down the table, hurriedly stand up. Daenerys doesn't move from her position on the windowsill. The lack of courtesy is unappreciated by Lord Wyman, but Jon knows Daenerys meant no disrespect. She acknowledges Lord Wyman as the ruler of White Harbor. She merely sees no need to get off her perch just because Wyman has entered. He's not her Lord after all.

She wouldn't have expected Lord Wyman to rise for her had their roles been reversed either.

Wyman introduces his advisers, a Maester named Bertand, and one of Wyman's first cousins, an older man named Nilson Manderly. The conversation turns more formal as they wait for Daenerys's own advisers to arrive. Wyman doesn't attempt to start negotiations without them of course, that would be a slight against his honor, but he does question Daenerys about her intentions towards the North as a whole and White Harbor in particular. Daenerys answers honestly as always. She came to the North because she finds Jon interesting. Because she wishes to see the North and discover the beauty it holds. Because she had no intention of remaining in lands that consider slavery acceptable.

Jon cuts in before she can mention the Burning of Slaver's Bay. He won't hide what she did there, but bringing up the gruesome massacre right before negotiations are about to begin would only cause needless complications. Davos agrees, for he takes over the conversation and ensures there are no opportunities for The Burning to be brought up.

Daenerys' people arrive. Jon isn't surprised in the slightest to see Missandei and Tyrion. Neither is he surprised to see Torgo Nudho. He's a little surprised to see Ser Barristan isn't present as well, though.

The negotiations begin.

As it turns out, while Missandei and Tyrion are both forces to be reckoned with on their own, together they're unstoppable. They know precisely what kind of arrangement they want, and they bounce demands and concessions off each other so smoothly Jon only realises they're holding the upper hand by Davos' reaction. Davos isn't displeased by their offer in any way, but it's clear it isn't quite as great as Missandei and Tyrion are making it out to be. While the salt is still absurdly cheap as when first proposed, Missandei and Tyrion have decided to settle on payment for transporting the dragonglass first. And they're demanding payments other than gold. The basics needed to refill their depleted stores, mostly. They use their offer of salt to bargain for more food, supplies, and most important of all, the rights to use the lands granted to them. They wish to be allowed to hunt and forage. Wish to have the full use of the lands granted to them for as long as they remain. Or rather, for a set period of time. They'll offer more salt if they still wish to remain after this time has passed.

It's clear Missandei and Tyrion worked out the details of their demands well beforehand. Davos is just as prepared, but Lord Wyman is not. And while Davos is prepared, he hasn't had time yet to work out an in depth strategy with Lord Wyman. It means that Davos isn't always in agreement with Wyman and his advisors. A little dishonest on Missandei's and Tyrion's part, but even Jon can see that while the price is a bit higher overall speaking, it remains absurdly cheap.

Jon is fairly certain Nilson is aware that Missandei and Tyrion are demanding a bit more than expected as well. Lord Wyman might be as well, but if he is, he's better at hiding it than his cousin. As for Maester Bertand, he signals his opinion when Wyman glances at him, but he doesn't speak up and offer the reasoning behind it. Wyman clearly doesn't expect him to either.

As for Torgo Nudho, Jon isn't surprised he doesn't say a word the entire time. Neither does he let anything of his thoughts on the proceedings slip.

Daenerys doesn't speak up much either. She listens and she offers her support when Missandei or Tyrion require her to, but other than that, she's content to let them lead the discussions. Jon is doing the same. Trade negotiations are not his strong suit. Sam and Arya are silent watchers as well, and while Sam seems to find the discussions interesting, Arya is becoming bored by them. Jon understands. He remains composed and formal as the situation demands, but boredom would have normally started to grow as well.

Normally Arya isn't here. Normally she isn't pulling the occasional face at him like she used to do when Father received important guests and they were allowed to be present. Or rather, he was allowed and she was required.

Normally Daenerys isn't watching him like she's undressing him with her eyes either. Not the first time she's done this by any means, but unlike usual, there's no conversation to distract her. She doesn't chat with him after all. That wouldn't be befitting of the situation. Or perhaps she's aware Jon wouldn't be pleased if she attempted to banter right now. The latter seems more likely.

Doesn't stop her from watching him like she's imaging slowly taking off every layer he's wearing. Her reaction is noticed by everyone of course, it's impossible to miss, but when Missandei and Tyrion use Wyman's and Nilson's distraction against them, they quickly refocus on bargaining. After debating with himself for a few moments, Jon decides there's no harm in what he's considering doing. He subtly positions himself so Daenerys has a more flattering view of him, careful to make the change in position seem natural instead of deliberate.

The slow smile Daenerys gains in turn is noticed, but Jon doesn't think anyone but Davos knows what caused it. And maybe Tyrion and Missandei, though neither lets slip whether they have or not.

Daenerys' reaction makes him feel even more playful, though of course he can't act on it. He also tightens the reins on his thoughts. Small imaginings are all good and well, but he'd rather not let the others see just how much he reciprocates Daenerys' feelings.

Judging from the look Arya gives him, she's well aware he isn't as unaffected as he's pretending to be. She probably doesn't know it's caused by him reciprocating Daenerys' feelings, though. Then Arya pulls a face, her position meaning Jon is the only one who sees it, and Jon quickly turns his head to the side so Wyman and the others won't see him smile. He makes the movement seem like a natural by taking a step to the side and adjusting his stance as though he's simply been standing still for too long. Not a true lie. Jon is getting tired of standing around like this, no matter how necessary he knows it to be. Arya's actions merely gave him an excuse to move.

His new position offers Daenerys another flattering view of him.

The negotiations conclude with everyone pleased with the outcome. Daenerys and her people have gained the right to use the lands they're camped on, as well as all they need to sustain themselves for quite some time. White Harbor has gained a fortune in salt and the potential to gain more later on.

Jon accompanies Daenerys and her people outside, and declines her invitation to come visit her at her camp later today. Right now there's too much to do. He'll come see her tomorrow, though.

Once again, Daenerys is disappointed but understanding. It makes it impossible to contain his affection. She isn't forcing him to choose between his feelings for her and his loyalty to his people.

Ygritte did.

While Daenerys is disappointed he won't be accompanying her, she's determined to have Sam accompany her instead. Or rather, to have him accompany Missandei, Tyrion and Torgo Nudho. Daenerys will be returning to camp by flying on Drogon as always. Sam is a bit hesitant at being alone with the Pirate Queen and her people, but Jon having vouched for her means he's willing enough to come along. Jon is glad. Sam will be able to satisfy Daenerys' curiosity about Maester Aemon as no one else could.

To Jon's amusement, Arya once again fails to hide her envy when Daenerys takes off on Drogon.

After Daenerys and her people have left, Lord Wyman approaches Jon.

"Your Grace, if I may, a word."

Jon can already tell where this is going.

His prediction holds true. Lord Wyman wishes to discuss Daenerys' feelings for him. Wonderful. Jon does his best to contain his annoyance, understanding Wyman's reaction. A Stark, even a bastard one, arriving with the Mad King's Daughter on amicable terms would cause anyone's guard to go up, never mind a bastard Stark who's the King in the North. Yet while that is enough to make anyone cautious, Daenerys making no secret of her desire for him causes true worry to rise. Trade partners, military allies, those are acceptable outcomes to her presence here, but no one in the North wishes for a Targaryen Queen. Especially not a Targaryen Queen whose Dragons could make the horrors her father committed seem like children's play.

Jon, with Davos' aid, manages to assure Wyman that while he's aware of Daenerys' feelings for him, he has no intention on acting on them. Neither does Daenerys herself, though it takes a frustratingly long time before Wyman accepts that as truth. Jon is usually proud of how steadfast his people are, but there are times when he wishes they would hold on to their beliefs just a little less strongly.

Jon has never been more glad to have kept things between him and Daenerys from progressing beyond friendship. Lord Wyman's reaction would have been so much worse otherwise.

It would've been worse as well if he'd realised Jon held feelings for her which go beyond friendship. Fortunately, Jon manages to avoid that revelation, and Davos sensibly doesn't bring it up either. Jon won't lie, but he's under no obligation to share his personal feelings with Wyman unless they affect his duties.

His feelings for Daenerys don't affect his duties. Not enough for there to be a need to mention them at least.

Yet while Wyman's reaction leaves him annoyed, Arya's teasing, despite knowing it was coming, leaves him flustered in a way not even Daenerys' shameless proposition did. It also drives home that Arya no longer a girl. She's a woman.

"So, you and the Pirate Queen," she says the moment they're alone, her eyes bright with mischievousness and her smile wicked. Part of Jon revels in the sight he never again expected to see. Another part of him is well aware he needs to cut this off before it grows worse.

"There's nothing going on between me and Daenerys," he says firmly. Not a lie, there truly is nothing going on. They might have feelings for each other, but Jon has no intention of allowing them to grow any deeper than they already are. Neither does he have any intention of acting on them.

"That didn't look like nothing," Arya returns with mock innocence. Jon gives her a warning look that would've worked better if he could get rid of his smile. He's missed having Arya tease him like this. Not quite like this of course, but while the subject is unusual, the way she's acting is anything but.

"We didn't do anything but talk."

"Jon, you were posing for her."

"I was not."

The denial escapes him without thought. As soon as he realises what he said, Jon suppresses the grimace that wants to escape. That was a blatant lie. He also curses the fact that Arya has grown far more perceptive than she used to be. He thought only those who already knew about his feelings for Daenerys had noticed.

Arya gives him a look that makes clear his lie was just as obvious as he thought it was. Jon resists the urge to cross his arms and reveal his discomfort. Instead he prepares to tell Arya in a firm and definitive way that there's nothing between him and Daenerys but friendship.

"We're friendly, is all."

Jon curses himself for how that came out. He couldn't have sounded more awkward or more defensive if he'd tried.

"Is that what it's called now?" Arya returns, her voice full of mock innocence and her grin making clear Jon is not going to like whatever she says next. "Here I thought it was called eye fucking."

"Arya!"

Arya laughs, and even though Jon remains completely mortified by the words he never expected to hear from his little sister of all people, the sight still warms him as nothing else could.

Arya is alive. She's unharmed. Jon knows that isn't true, knows he'll soon see more things that'll force him to acknowledge Arya didn't become a woman without pain. He knows he'll find out things about her as wounding as some of the things Sansa has shared with him.

For now he wants to cherish the gift that is Arya acting just as she's always done. He wants to cherish her happiness. Wants to protect it at all costs.

He wants to keep keep feeling lighter than he has since before their family was broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I present, pure fluff to counter all the angst from canon. Arya was a lot of fun to write. Not in the least because she's as overjoyed to have Jon back as Jon is overjoyed to have her back. Look at her, acting like the girl she hasn't been in years. She's not that girl anymore of course, but being with Jon allows her to pretend she still is. He allows her to feel like the Arya Stark she once was. And she's basking in that gift. 
> 
> Also, you can't tell me Arya wouldn't be all over riding a Dragon. Did you see the smile she got when she first saw them in canon? She wants to ride one so badly. Though not in the same way Jon wants to ride a certain Dragon x3


	18. Chapter 18

Arya, despite being bored with most of what he’s doing, remains with him until Jon settles down to write letters. Then she lets out a disappointed sigh and tells him she’ll come back later. Jon wishes she’d remain but he understands her decision. Unlike his other duties, this one doesn’t allow for any kind of conversation. Not even the kind where she pulls faces at him.

“Try to stay out of trouble,” he tells her, reveling in the fact he can do so once more.

His joy doesn't make the message any less sincere. He’s just gotten Arya back. Jon would like to avoid worrying over her again for as long as possible.

“Trouble should stay out of my way,” Arya returns with what Jon knows to be mock arrogance. He knows the words are a jest, nothing more.

Doesn’t stop him from battling the urge to grab Arya, sit her down and force her to remain within his sight at all times. Something of his feelings must show, for Arya softens.

“I’ll be careful, Jon.”

The assurance is enough to make him relax.

Arya clenches her jaw and gives him a firm look. One that doesn’t quite manage to hide the fear she’s trying to suppress.

“You be careful, too. I’d rather not return to find a knife in your heart.”

Jon forces himself to contain the reaction that unexpected blow inspires, to not reveal how they make his scars flare with phantom pain. Instead he musters a faint smile, wishing to soothe the fear Arya should never feel.

“I’ve already taken precautions to keep that from happening.” Again.

Arya’s eyes flicker over the armor Jon never goes without, before she gives him a smile as deliberate as his own. Trying to comfort him just as he did her. Seems he wasn’t entirely successful in hiding his response to her words.

“Good.”

Arya takes her leave. Jon distracts himself from his aching scars with work.

He’s almost finished when Sam returns. A fair amount of time has passed since he left, but Jon had expected him to return later still.

Sam looks nervous.

“What’s wrong?” Jon asks. It’s clear something is, though Sam isn’t nervous in a way that causes true worry to rise. Whatever happened should be minor.

“Nothing. I think. Ser Barristan said nothing is wrong at least, though most didn’t agree with that. Did you know Barristan the Bold is here? How did he end up serving the Pirate Queen?”

“Sam,” Jon says and it’s enough to make Sam blurt out the truth.

“I made the Pirate Queen cry.”

He did what?

“You made Daenerys cry?” How? What could Sam possibly have done to make her cry?

Is she alright?

“She was asking me about Maester Aemon,” Sam says and it makes realization dawn. “What he was like at first, but then she asked me how he died. So I told her. I tried to be gentle, told him he wasn’t in pain when it happened, his final words, things like that, you know? I tried my hardest to be gentle, I swear I did, but she still started crying.”

Jon feels his chest tighten. Daenerys’ reaction isn’t surprising, not truly, but it does fill him with a desire to go comfort her. To soothe her grief over the family she’ll never be able to meet.

He can’t. Even ignoring his duties, Daenerys is long since gone. She handles being overwhelmed by her emotions by going flying. A fact Sam confirms when he continues talking, explaining Daenerys took off, and that her people made clear Sam was no longer welcome without her.

“I don’t think they were angry, not really, but they certainly weren’t happy either. Some looked like they were a moment away from giving me a slow and painful death.”

“They’re protective of Daenerys,” Jon explains, still telling himself it would be useless to go out and try to find Daenerys. She’s long gone by now, and she won’t be returning for some time. Most likely not until night has long since fallen.

“To the point of madness. Not that they’re mad! I don’t think they are at least. Are they?”

Sam’s near panicked babbling is enough to draw his full attention.

“They’re like the Free Folk,” Jon replies and it’s enough to make Sam start to calm down. Sam knows how to handle the Free Folk after all. Yes, there are as many differences as not between the two people, these are pirates, not wildlings. But the similarities are there.

Despite the differences, Jon knows Sam doesn’t truly fear Daenerys’ people. He’d be reacting in a different manner if he did.

He’s not at ease around them either. Him making Daenerys cry did not result in a favorable impression for her people. Though Jon knows that Daenerys’ people would disagree with that assessment.

They showed Sam what boundaries must not be crossed.

“I messed up, Jon,” Sam says, soft and miserable.

“You didn’t,” he says, holding Sam’s gaze to impress his sincerity on him. “Daenerys won’t be mad at you. She’ll be grateful.” Of that Jon has no doubt.

He’s grateful Sam was with Maester Aemon in his final moments as well.

Sam lets out a worn sigh, his tension making way for exhaustion. He walks over and sits down a chair, his shoulders slumped as he brings up a hand to rub his face.

“I really hope so. We need her.”

They do. Lord Wyman and the others don’t grasp the full truth of this matter. They still underestimate the danger the Army of the Dead poses.

Sam doesn’t.

“You didn’t ruin things, Sam,” Jon assures him. When Sam gives him a searching look, Jon ensures he can see how certain he is of the truth of his claim.

He’s glad it’s enough to make Sam relax. Sam leans back in his chair and shakes his head with exasperation and a touch of rising humor.

“I’ll tell you one thing. Maester Aemon’s letters never prepared me for meeting the Pirate Queen in the flesh.”

“No one is prepared for Daenerys Stormborn,” Jon returns, faint amusement of his own starting to rise. He forces himself to focus on that instead of his worry for Daenerys.

“Does she always walk around like that?” Sam asks, made incredulous by Daenerys’ outrageous appearance all over again.

“No. Most of the time she wears less.”

As expected, Sam looks him over to determine whether he’s joking or not. When he concludes Jon is being sincere, he shakes his head with another surge of incredulity.

“How does she not get cold?”

“She’s a Dragon,” Jon returns with mock seriousness, though not with dishonesty. “Dragons don’t get cold.” A fact Daenerys never lets anyone forget.

“I’m pretty sure Maester Aemon would’ve disagreed with that.”

True, he would have. Though it must be said.

“He never did seem as affected as the rest of us.” A fact made all the more remarkable for his age.

“Aside from you, you mean,” Sam returns with a pointed look. Jon concedes the claim with a tilt of his head. He carries the Blood of the Wolf, though. Even among the North, House Stark is known for their ability to endure the cold.

Sam hesitates, looking like he’s debating on telling him something. Whatever it is, he decides it’s unimportant, for he shakes his head and turns wistful.

“Maester Aemon would have loved Daenerys.”

The words are as soft as they are certain. Sam, despite having only just met Daenerys, has already realized the truth of this. Jon’s voice softens as well.

“Aye, he would have.” And Jon still regrets they’ll never be able to meet.

They talk about Daenerys a while longer. Unlike with Lord Wyman, where Jon had to choose every word with care, he can tell Sam his thoughts without worry of how they’ll be received.

“She’s the most arrogant person I’ve ever met. The gods themselves could command her to do something and she’d ignore them without care.” It’s not arrogance in that she needs to display superiority over others, it’s an unshakable belief she is greater than the rest of them mere mortals. She believes she’s stronger in body and spirit both, she believes none in the world have the right to command her to do anything. They can ask, they can bargain, they can plead.

They cannot command her. Even the gods themselves cannot do that. The reason for this is simple.

Daenerys believes she is a Dragon. Not in the way other Houses claim their signs as their own, she’s convinced she is a true Dragon. She genuinely sees no difference between herself and her children. Oh, she acknowledges her form is mortal, but her mortality doesn’t change the fact she is just as much a Dragon as her children are.

Jon shouldn’t find her conviction as endearing as he does. It’s a clear sign of madness after all. One that should worry him all the more for the history of her House.

Doesn’t stop him from finding it endearing instead.

“To be fair, I don’t think anyone would fear the gods when they have Dragons on their side,” Sam says. A fair point, but an irrelevant one when it comes to Daenerys.

“She’d be the most arrogant person I’ve ever met even without her Dragons.” Of that Jon has no doubt.

Sam hesitates, unease starting to rise. His next question reveals the reason behind it.

“Is she really as bad as the stories make her out to be?”

Before Jon can answer, Sam shakes his head and continues talking.

“Sorry, that’s a stupid question. Of course she isn’t like her father. You wouldn’t trust her if she was.”

Sam’s faith in him is warming. Even more so after needing to argue about this exact matter with Lord Wyman. Yes, Daenerys is mad, and she’s mad in a distinctively Targaryen way.

She doesn’t want to hurt people.

“She’s dangerous,” Jon acknowledges, for not doing so would be foolish, “but she isn’t like her father.”

“Except for the part where she burned down Slaver’s Bay.”

Sam being aware of what happened there is surprise. Though Jon supposes it shouldn’t be. Of course the Citadel heard about this matter long before the North did.

It explains why Sam is so ill at ease around Daenerys. Jon has no doubt she’d have caused him to be off balance and cautious even without this knowledge, but Sam wouldn’t have felt true fear for her as he does now. The stories in Maester Aemon’s letters were often gruesome, but they also spoke of Daenerys freeing every slave she could. Sam chose to believe those were the parts that were true, chose to believe she was a good person. Part might have been inspired by her relation to Maester Aemon, but Jon knows he would have chosen to believe so even had Maester Aemon been indifferent to Daenerys. Sam always chooses to believe the best of people.

Sam closes his eyes in the way he does when he’s cursing himself for not being able to hold his tongue. Then he frowns with realization before he opens his eyes and gives him a hard look.

“You do know about that, don’t you? Because you need to. What she did there...”

Sam losing his voice is a clear sign of how gruesome The Burning was.

“I’m aware of what happened there,” Jon says, glad when it makes Sam relax. Or rather, it makes him relax for the most part.

“Why did she do it?” Sam asks. Not because he doesn’t trust Jon’s judgement, but because he can’t conceive what could make Jon consider Daenerys to be a good person when she committed an atrocity as unspeakable as this one. Jon hesitates. While he has no intention of lying, detailing the exact reasons behind The Burning feels disrespectful to the loss Daenerys and her people suffered.

“The rulers of Slaver’s Bay committed an act of war on Daenerys and her people. They replied in kind. It’s not my story to tell, Sam,” he adds when Sam gives him a look that tells him his answer isn’t comprehensive enough by far. Were Jon speaking to his bannermen, he’d be forced to reveal the reasons, forced to explain why Daenerys isn’t like her father even after doing something such as this. His crown wouldn’t allow for anything else.

Jon isn’t speaking to Sam as his King. He’s speaking to him as a friend.

Sam briefly debates on whether to push for more information or not, but he decides to respect Jon’s unwillingness to talk about this. Jon is grateful.

“But she won’t do something like that here?” Sam asks instead. A more than reasonable worry.

“She won’t go to war with the North,” Jon confirms and his vote of confidence is enough to soothe Sam’s fear. Sam won’t believe Daenerys to be harmless of course, but he accepts she isn’t her father’s daughter.

It’s a relief Jon’s word is all Sam needs to trust his judgement.

The conversation turns towards Gilly and Little Sam, what they did at the Citadel, how they’re settling in at Winterfell. How big Little Sam has gotten, how much Gilly’s reading has improved. Jon listens to Sam ramble on with a sense of peace. It’s always soothing to hear Sam talk about his family.

When Arya returns, she’s disappointed to find Jon hasn’t finished writing yet. Sam’s arrival had distracted him from his duties. Jon rectifies this while Sam and Arya talk to each other with surprising but welcome familiarity. Normal after traveling together, yet seeing Sam get along so well with his sister is an unexpected gift nonetheless.

After Jon finishes writing to Edd, informing him of the current events as well as giving him Sam’s regards, he settles down with Arya and Sam for dinner. There’s still an endless list of things Jon must do, some of which will need to be done after the meal is finished, but he’s satisfied with the progress he’s made.

The next day, he isn’t surprised in the slightest when shortly after dawn, New Castle is treated to Drogon’s usual announcement of his presence. Neither is he surprised to discover Daenerys is here for Sam and not for him. He is, however, surprised when he fails to find Arya among the people hastily coming to greet Daenerys. Jon smothers the worry attempting to rise. There could be any number of reasons for why she isn’t here. It doesn’t mean something happened to her.

Jon distracts himself from his worries by focusing on Daenerys. He's glad there's no sign of the grief Sam inspired the day before.

Jon invites Daenerys to share breakfast with him while they wait for Sam to join them. Daenerys gladly accepts. Jon doesn’t send a servant to call for Sam, Drogon’s roar will have woken him up. If somehow it didn’t, Sam joining them later on won’t be a problem.

The invitation causes Lord Wyman, who arrived with more haste than any other, to give him a deeply unimpressed look. Jon replies with one that shows he has no intention of being agreeable about this. He understands people’s caution towards Daenerys, understands Lord Wyman won’t be able to trust her until he’s ascertained for himself she isn’t like her father.

Doesn’t mean he’ll allow Lord Wyman’s caution to push Daenerys away. They’re having breakfast together. Lord Wyman will simply have to deal with how short notice it is.

Davos, who arrives just as Jon starts leading Daenerys to the great hall, gives him a look that's pointed, fond, and filled with more than a touch of wry humor. He’s well aware of what Jon is hoping to accomplish with his plan.

They go to the great hall, where servants rush to present a breakfast suitable enough for a guest as important as Daenerys is. Normally Jon wouldn’t have done something like this without warning, but normally he isn’t fed up with Lord Wyman’s behavior to the person who's supposed to be a potential long term ally.

“How are your people settling in?” Jon asks after the table has been prepared. He breaks bread and offers it to Daenerys.

“They complain of the cold,” Daenerys returns with a fond grin, accepting the bread drowning in symbolism. “We don’t often encounter landscape such as this. Winter’s arrival isn’t helping.”

“This isn’t the most opportune moment to visit the North,” Jon acknowledges, allowing himself a faint smile but no open affection. He invited Daenerys to eat with him in the great hall instead of somewhere more private. It means he can’t act as freely as he wishes to.

It means his people will see him share an amicable breakfast with the Mad King’s Daughter. Means they’ll see Lord Wyman break bread with Daenerys as well. Oh, Lord Wyman is pointedly conversing with his own family instead of Daenerys, but the fact they’re all seated at the same table, the fact he threw together a breakfast worthy of Daenerys’ status, is a clear sign that while he’s cautious, he isn’t hostile towards her. Jon knows he cannot force his people to accept Daenerys, they must do so on their own. But he can show them their King has accepted her. It might not make them change their minds about Daenerys, but at the very least, it should prevent their opinion from taking a turn for the worse.

As Jon had known would happen, the hall is rapidly filling up. Nobles who’d otherwise never be up this early have decided today is the perfect day for a change in routine, and there are far more servants than necessary. All are finding excuses to see the Mad King's Daughter with their own eyes. Daenerys’ appearance only makes the desire to witness her for themselves even stronger.

Daenerys isn’t wearing a coat today. A fair amount of people have forgone courtesy in favor of openly staring at her bare chest. Part of that is caused by how indecent a picture she presents, but an equal part is caused by disbelief and a fascination void of carnal thoughts. Even with the fires warming the room, all are wearing several layers to ward off the cold.

All but Daenerys. Jon knows her lack of clothes to be caused by a preference for how it feels, but he also knows she enjoys flaunting the gifts her blood holds. It’s hard to deny Daenerys is a Dragon when she makes no secret of the magic she shares with her children.

Daenerys looks around the hall, her gaze briefly halting on the few children present, all staring at her with fascination. Then she gives him a mischievous smile, shifts her weight and leans back so her bejeweled breasts are on full display for their audience. And for him. Jon is proud he manages to contain his reaction to a brief glance downwards.

“I haven’t forgotten your promise to show me the hidden wonders of your home, oh King in the North,” she says with a flirtatious smile, though it isn’t accompanied by a heady look as usual. Once again, Jon is grateful for her understanding. Daenerys won’t hide her feelings for him, but she isn’t inconsiderate of where they are either.

She isn’t inconsiderate of the weight his crown holds. Daenerys might not care what people think of her, but she has no intention of creating a hostile impression either. The opposite. She’s trying her hardest to create a favorable one. By her own standards of course, but she nonetheless wishes for his people to like her. Or rather, she wishes to assure them she has no intention of harming them. Jon knows part of this to be caused by her feelings for him, but he believes Daenerys would have wished to assure his people of this even without that. 

It makes it hard not to be overcome by affection.

“I can hardly go back on my word,” he banters back, amused by the reaction of their audience. Aside from Lord Wyman and his family, none are close enough to hear their conversation over the other voices filling the air, but they can see he and Daenerys are friendly. From the expressions many are wearing, you’d think he was being friendly with Ramsay Bolton.

“My brother, going back on his word?”

Jon startles violently, grabbing the knife besides his plate on instinct as he whips his head around. Daenerys reacts just as strongly. Lord Wyman and the others seated at the table startle only a little less so.

Arya, somehow standing behind them, gives him a smile dripping with satisfaction.

“Perish the thought.”

“How did you sneak up on me?” Jon demands, unable to understand how she got here. He positioned himself to have a clear view of all entrances, and he’s been keeping track of every person who entered. So has Daenerys for that matter. Yet somehow Arya found a way to sneak up on them both.

Jon is relieved to see her unharmed. Whatever kept her away when Drogon arrived, it wasn’t anything dangerous.

“How come you didn’t tell me you were having breakfast with the Mother of Dragons?” Arya counters, even more pleased with his reaction than she was before.

Daenerys laughs. Jon barely catches himself from revealing how that bright sound makes him feel.

“You’re turning out to be as interesting as your brother is, Arya Stark,” she says with a grin that warms him further. Daenerys likes Arya. She likes her a lot.

“Does that mean you’ll let me ride one of your children?” Arya asks while settling besides him. Her asking for a ride on Daenerys’ children instead of her Dragons, her calling Daenerys the Mother of Dragons instead of the Pirate Queen, is another sign of Arya no longer being a child. Arya has learned the power words hold.

And she’s using that power to try to fly. Arya might no longer be a girl, but at the same time, she’s the same she’s always been. This is further evidenced by the hopeful look she gives Daenerys, the sight familiar even with the newfound maturity her appearance holds. 

Her hopeful look amuses Daenerys further.

“No.”

Arya sighs with disappointment but Jon is well aware she isn’t about to give up on this. When Arya decides to do something, she won’t rest until she’s accomplished whatever her goal is. In this case, riding a Dragon.

Yet for once, Jon believes she won’t be able to get her way. Daenerys is even more unyielding than Arya herself is.

Before anything else can be said, Sam arrives. The moment Daenerys spots him, she lights up and vaults over the table, startling Arya and the others watching. She marches towards Sam with a determination that causes the few people in her path to hastily move out of her way. The conversation that had been filling the air cuts off as well, all pretense at courtesy dropped in favor of watching what the Mad King’s Daughter will do. Jon had been planning for Sam to join them at the table, to ensure their words would have been mostly private at least, but he now realizes he forgot to take into account Daenerys utter disregard of what people think of her actions. Her being considerate of their audience doesn’t mean she’ll change her behavior in any meaningful way, and it most certainly won’t stop her from expressing her gratitude to Sam.

Daenerys halts right in front of Sam. Sam is distracted by her lack of coat.

His distraction doesn’t last long.

“Thank you.”

The words are soft but carry through the now silent room with ease.

“You’re welcome?” Sam returns, eyes flickering between Daenerys and the people watching. Sam has no trouble speaking up in a group when he feels his words are important, but him being the center of attention like this does not inspire comfort in him. Then Sam pulls himself together, ignoring their audience in favor of focusing on Daenerys. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

Several people react with audible shock, ranging from soft gasps to loud murmuring. It results in people being shushed in a variety of ways as well, ranging from a discreet pinch in the arm to a hand being slapped over the mouth of another. Shock and fascination dominate the atmosphere. Jon is glad to see there’s no true fear.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” Daenerys returns with the softest of smiles. She holds out her hands, and Jon realizes with surprise that she wishes to take hold of Sam’s own. By now Jon is well aware that, on the whole, Daenerys doesn’t like touching people. Certainly not near strangers like Sam.

But then, normally she isn’t talking to the person who cared for a member of her family as he passed away.

Sam hesitates briefly, but then he holds out his hands for Daenerys to take. Daenerys does so like she’s holding the most precious thing in the entire world.

“You cared for my great-uncle in his final days. You made sure he was comfortable. You made sure he wasn’t alone when the end came. You have my gratitude, Samwell Tarly. Ask me whatever you desire. As long as it doesn’t harm the innocent, I will grant your every wish.”

The entire hall seems to hold its breath as people wait for Sam to respond. Jon won’t deny he’s curious as to what Sam might ask for as well.

When Sam does respond, his choice is completely unexpected.

“...Would you lend us your aid in the war against the dead?”

Jon is overcome by affection. It shouldn’t have come as a true surprise that Sam would ask for this, yet it still does. Here the most powerful woman in the world is, offering Sam whatever reward he might wish, and Sam chooses to ask her to lend them her aid in the Great War.

“Your King and I are already in negotiations about that,” Daenerys says with a quick smile at him. “I will not lend my children’s aid to an entire nation unless I know beyond a shadow of doubt whether or not the cause is just.”

Which is why she won’t commit to an alliance without seeing the dead herself. For the first time, Jon realizes that Daenerys understands the full scale of the power she wields. It was easy to assume she didn’t because of how quick she is to use her Dragons to her advantage, and Jon won’t deny he still thinks there are many ways in which she wields the power they grant her too quickly. But there are some ways in which she’s cautious instead.

“But if you have any personal enemies, I’d be willing to destroy them,” Daenerys continues and Jon can’t help an inappropriate burst of humor. Just like Sam is incapable of talking for a significant amount of time without mentioning Gilly, Daenerys is incapable of talking for a significant amount of time without reminding everyone of how dangerous she is.

Daenerys doesn’t repeat she’ll only destroy Sam’s enemies should they not include innocents. She’s given that condition already. She sees no need to remind Sam of it.

To those who know her by reputation only, a reminder would have been nice.

“That’s, ah... That won’t be necessary, my Lady,” Sam says awkwardly, not knowing how to react to suddenly being granted more power than he’s ever held.

“What about riches?” Daenerys continues, her eyes intent and her voice low and enticing. “Gold, jewels? Do you desire wonders from far away places? Do you desire wings?”

Jon feels his eyes widen with shock, unable to believe what she just offered Sam. When he glances at Arya, he sees her look at Daenerys as though she just committed the greatest of betrayals. Jon feels the same, jealousy rising with a vengeance. The idea of Sam flying would cause that all on its own, but the idea of Sam flying with Daenerys as Jon himself did makes it near impossible to keep a clear head. Not helped by Daenerys’ next words.

“I can show you the world as you’ve never seen it before.”

“I don’t know. Really, I can’t think of anything, it’s very hard to think right now,” Sam babbles with wide eyes and a furious blush, gaze flickering between Daenerys’ bejeweled breasts, the hold she still has on his hands, and the storm filled eyes looking at him like no world exists beyond Sam.

“There’s no need to give me your answer now,” Daenerys says with a soft smile. “You have my favor, Samwell Tarly. It is yours to do with as you wish.”

If Sam decides to accept her favor by flying, Jon honestly doesn’t know how he’ll react. Yet despite his jealousy, Jon feels content as well. His plan might not have gone the way he thought it would, but the results are what he wished for. People, Lord Wyman included, are looking as though they're seeing Daenerys Stormborn for the first time instead of the Mad King’s Daughter. It doesn’t mean they’ve accepted her, not by a long shot. But it’s a good start.

It makes him hope his home will soon come to offer Daenerys the welcome he wishes her to have. He wants Daenerys to feel welcome here. He wants her to stay.

He wants to share with her the warmth the North normally reserves for their own people only.


	19. Chapter 19

To Jon’s relief, Sam doesn’t accept Daenerys’ offer of flight.

“I’m pretty sure I’d throw up,” Sam says after he’s sat down at the table and regained his wits. He’s torn between embarrassment and acceptance. Then Sam realizes something, and he gives Daenerys a hopeful look. “Would you be willing to carry someone else? Gilly would love to fly.”

Normally Jon would be amused by how head over heels Sam continues to be for Gilly, but this time he’s battling a renewed wave of jealousy. Given that Gilly is a woman, he thought the strength of it would be less, and while it does mean his jealousy isn’t quite the same as before, it remains just as strong.

He doesn’t want Daenerys to fly with anyone but him.

“Gilly is Sam’s lover,” Jon explains when Daenerys, still looking at Sam, raises an inquisitive brow. He knows she would have agreed to Sam’s request anyway, but when she meets his gaze, Jon nonetheless forces himself to say the words he knows will make his jealousy grow worse. “She cared for Maester Aemon in his final days as well.”

As expected, Daenerys softens. When she asks Sam for elaboration on his words, Sam recounts how Gilly helped Maester Aemon eat, dress, stay warm, and so much more. Daenerys reacts how Jon had known she would.

“Then she has my favor just as you do, Samwell Tarly. If she so desires, I will grant her the very sky itself.”

And his jealousy is worse. It’s much worse.

“This is so unfair,” Arya says, voicing the exact thought Jon is struggling to contain.

Because it is unfair. He’d give up far too much to fly with Daenerys again for but the briefest of moments, and here she is, offering it without price to Sam and Gilly both. He knows that isn't true, knows both of them have more than earned it, but that doesn't stop him from feeling betrayed in the worst of ways.

“There are very few things that will lead to me offering my children’s wings, Arya Stark,” Daenerys says with a smile, amused and pleased with Arya’s reaction. Anyone who wishes to experience the glory of flying rises in Daenerys’ estimation of them. “Perhaps one day you’ll accomplish one of these things yourself.”

The determined expression Arya gains is a clear sign of her accepting the gauntlet Daenerys just threw down. Her asking Daenerys for elaboration on what these few things are is another.

Unfortunately, Daenerys’ answer reveals how low the chances are of Arya ever flying. In essence, Daenerys offers the gift of flight only to those who’ve saved the lives of those she loves. Which means Arya would have to be in a position of danger in order to meet Daenerys’ requirements for flight.

Jon won’t allow Arya to be in danger again. Not unless there’s no other choice possible.

Judging from Arya’s determination, she doesn’t agree with his unspoken decision. Jon bites back the urge to say she won’t ever again be in danger. He can’t promise that no matter how much he wants to.

He can avoid it for as long as possible.

Except he soon realizes Arya has no intention of staying out of danger.

“Do you wield both of them at the same time?” Arya asks Daenerys with a nod at her blades.

“Of course,” Daenerys says like dual wielding isn’t one of the most challenging styles there is. “What kind of Dragon would I be if I only used one set of claws?”

Jon hides the fondness her typical answer inspires, aware all eyes in the hall are still on them even if all ears no longer are. It’s endearing how Daenerys can deliver the most outrageous of statements like there’s nothing unusual about them.

“I wouldn’t know,” Arya returns with a challenging look. “I’ve never fought a Dragon before.”

Jon feels his eyes widen at the invitation he should’ve seen coming but didn’t. His shock is joined by worry when Daenerys gains a slow smile. She shifts her weight so she’ll be able to lunge at Arya. Arya replies by adjusting her balance so she’ll be able to leap of the way.

“Would you like to?”

Daenerys’ acceptance of Arya’s invitation is enough to snap out of his shock.

“No,” he interjects firmly before Arya can answer. Daenerys looks at him with surprise but Jon is more focused on Arya, now giving him an affronted look. It’s an affront he knows well, the kind she always got when being told she wasn’t allowed to do something. Then she always went and did it anyway. “Arya, you aren’t sparring with Daenerys,” he continues even firmer than before.

Arya turns stubborn, confirming his fears.

“I can handle myself,” she says, cutting in a way he’s never witnessed from her before. Jon ensures his reply comes out measured instead of agitated.

“I know you can.” That’s not the point.

“I wouldn’t harm your sister, Jon,” Daenerys says with some offense of her own and it makes his aggravation grow. That’s not the point either.

“I know that as well. I just don’t want you two to fight.” Arya might be able to take care of herself, but she’s his sister. The idea of her fighting anyone, even in a spar, makes fierce protectiveness rise. The idea of her sparring with Daenerys in particular? That makes irrational fear claw at his mind. Jon knows it would be a mere spar, he truly does, but that doesn’t stop every part of him from violently rejecting the mere idea of it happening.

It doesn't stop him from seeing Rickon.

“I’m not a child anymore, Jon,” Arya says, and while the sharp edge is new, her stubbornness is not.

“You’re my sister,” Jon says, the words coming out more pleading than intended. “I don’t want you to fight.”

When Arya prepares to keep arguing, Jon quickly continues talking.

“Arya, please. I just got you back. Can’t you wait a little while longer before challenging people to duels?” Just until he’s managed to gain control over the worst of his protectiveness, just until he can convince himself Arya won’t be in danger when sparring.

Just until he stops seeing Rickon.

Arya lets out a sigh that makes him relax. She’ll listen to him. For now.

“Fine. But I’m going to spar with her later on.”

Of course she will.

“She isn’t lying about being skilled with a blade,” Sam says, missing the entire point as well. “The opposite, actually. She’s _good_ , Jon.”

Jon is about to repeat yet again he’s aware of Arya’s ability to handle herself when Arya speaks up.

“I am, you know. I fought Brienne of Tarth to a draw.”

She did what?

Before he can work through his incredulity, Daenerys asks who Brienne is. While Arya answers her, Jon shakes off his disbelief. Or most of it at least. He knows Arya is skilled, doesn’t need to see her battle in order to understand she’s grown into the potential she’s always had.

Doesn’t stop him from struggling to picture tiny Arya fighting enormous Brienne to a draw.

The rest of the conversation remains lighthearted. Daenerys continues to like Arya, and she continues to adore Sam as well.

Jon is glad to see Arya and Sam seem to like her back.

When breakfast is over, Lord Wyman reveals he’s starting to warm up to Daenerys as well. In front of all the people in the hall, he apologizes for his rudeness this morning. He tells Daenerys she’s an honored guest, and he will treat her as such. Lord Wyman hasn’t accepted her yet of course, not by a long shot. But Jon has hope he soon will.

When accompanying Daenerys outside, Jon tells her he’d prefer not visiting her people today. He wants to, of course he wants to, but there’s still so much to do. He would’ve come see her today had she not come over herself, but given that she has, he now needs to focus on his duties.

He already misses the leisure he experienced when traveling with her.

Daenerys continues to be understanding. She invites him to come to her camp tomorrow. She also says she’ll come by in person for dinner. A private one, not a public one. Jon gladly accepts. He might no longer be able to spend as much time with her as he wishes to by far, but the same duties that keep him from her away also bring him back. She’s an honored guest and the best potential ally the North has ever had. Of course the King in the North has to comply with her requests to see him. Jon wishing to spend time with her anyway is merely an added benefit. A significant part of Jon wishes she’d demand he spend more time with her, but an equal part of him is grateful she doesn’t.

He’s grateful she doesn’t force him to choose between her and his people.

Jon busies himself with work. Unlike the day before, Arya stays and leaves in equal measure. She also seems to be debating something, though she won't share what. Jon still wishes to keep her within his sight at all times, but he knows that would be unfair to her.

Doesn’t stop him from being relieved every time she returns.

It doesn't stop him from wishing she was with him at all times for reasons that have nothing to do with protectiveness. Arya makes his duties _fun_. She teases him, she pulls faces at him and others both, though she ensures none but Jon himself ever sees her do it. She shares his incredulity over him being a King, she mocks the address of Your Grace by giving him exaggerated bows behind people's backs.

She makes his crown feel lighter than it ever has.

It’s afternoon when Arya comes to a decision about what she's been considering.

“We’re going to spar.”

Jon looks at her with surprise. This he hadn’t seen coming. Though he supposes he should have. Of course Arya wishes to show how much she’s improved. He wonders why she wavered for so long on whether or not to invite him to a spar, though. He thought she would’ve jumped on the opportunity the moment the thought occurred to her.

Part of him wants to take her up on her offer, wants to see just how great he knows she’s become.

Most of him sees Rickon.

“Another time,” he says. Arya replies with a look that shows she has no intention of postponing this.

“No. We’re going to spar, and we’re going to do so now.”

Jon hesitates. He could use his duties as an excuse, could claim he doesn’t have the time to spare. Not an entire a lie.

It wouldn’t be the entire truth either. Right now he’s in between tasks. He can afford to spare the time needed for a spar. And it could be argued accepting her offer is in the best interest of his duties. Jon has returned to waking before dawn and practicing in order to keep his skills sharp, but the long inactivity caused by his journey to Dragonstone Isle means he could use more practice than usual.

Accepting would make Arya happy. Jon can tell she’s determined to prove her skill to him, to prove he doesn’t need to worry about her. She won’t succeed of course, Jon will always worry over her. But maybe a spar will help him worry a little less.

Maybe it will make him stop seeing Rickon.

“Practice swords only,” Jon says, for he won’t agree without this stipulation.

Arya lights up and it soothes him as always.

It doesn’t stop him from seeing Rickon.

“Practice swords only,” she agrees.

They go to the training yard. There are a few men practicing, but there’s enough room available for him and Arya. Jon sets aside Longclaw and the dagger he carries, and takes off his cloak. Arya takes off her cloak as well, and sets aside Needle and her own dagger. Jon knows she has another dagger hidden in her booth, but Arya makes no move to pull it out. For some reason, her not doing so makes the anxiety threatening to take over even worse. It shouldn't, Arya always being prepared for the worst should soothe him, yet it has the opposite effect on him.

Arya shouldn’t have needed to learn that danger can strike at all times.

Jon resists the urge to back out of their spar. Instead he chooses a wooden sword suitable to his needs. Arya does the same, picking a sword smaller than his. They both perform a few practice swings to get a feel for the weight and balance of their weapons, before taking up position on the field. Jon ignores the few people watching, focusing on Arya and Arya only. In particular, he examines her stance. It’s a good one, providing solid footing and allowing her great mobility. The way she’s holding her weapon shows she doesn’t use wide swings as he does. She’ll be going for quick jabs instead. Jon had been expecting that. Needle isn’t suitable for a style like his own.

Arya is examining his own stance in turn. When she finishes, she raises a brow with challenge.

“Are you planning on standing around all day?”

“You’re the one who wanted to spar,” he counters. Arya replies with a smile that's familiar and not. The nervous energy, the desire to prove herself, that remains the same.

The cutting edge to her smile is new.

Arya darts forward and jabs her sword at his kidney. Jon takes a step back and forces her sword to the side with his own. The practice sword doesn’t have the same weight Longclaw does, but against tiny Arya and the sword even lighter than his own, the blow is more than strong enough to deflect her attack. Jon reverses the momentum of his swing with a flick of his wrist and swipes at Arya.

Arya doesn’t move out of the way as expected. Instead she darts beneath his sword and jabs at his stomach, wood connecting with his armor. Needle wouldn’t have been able to pierce through, but without the protection he never goes without, Arya’s blow would have caused a fatal injury. Jon lifts his hands with surrender, a faint smile tugging at his lips at how adorably pleased Arya looks with herself. 

Arya steps back and gives him a smile dripping with satisfaction.

“That’s one point for me.”

“I don’t think so,” Jon says, tapping his armor to show why he disagrees. Arya responds with mock affront.

“Not good enough for you? Then how about this?”

Jon quickly steps out of the way as Arya darts forward again, barely fast enough to keep her sword from grazing his thigh. Not a fatal wound by any means, but had it connected in a real fight, she would’ve hampered his mobility, something that could easily lead to lethal consequences.

Arya ducks beneath his retaliating swing and Jon is forced to hastily move out of her way again as she goes after his sword arm. They continue moving across the field, and while Jon doesn’t allow her to drive him in a corner, keeping her blows from connecting turns out to be far more challenging than expected. Even having accounted for the fact Arya has grown into her potential, Jon fails to keep her from hitting him a lot more than he thought he would.

Sam was right, Arya is good. Better than good, she’s great. She’s fast, nimble, relies as much on her hearing as she relies on her sight, and she can spot even the smallest opening in his defenses. She never wastes time in exploiting them either. Jon feels the sting of her attacks enough to know that, had she been using Needle, she would have already beaten him without question.

Arya can protect herself. The knowledge causes him to relax.

It makes the image of Rickon start to fade.

Yet while their sparring is calming to Jon, it’s frustrating to Arya.

“Stop holding back,” she snaps after Jon has deflected another blow and put some distance between them. It isn’t a surprise she’s noticed. While Jon does perform the occasional counter attack, he’s content to be on the defensive. More than content in fact. He has no intention of going on the offensive. Not against Arya.

Not when he never dared to hope they’d be together like this again.

“You’re my sister,” he says. “I’m always going to hold back against you.”

This turns out to be the wrong thing to say, for Arya’s frustration is joined by genuine anger. Before Jon can clarify him holding back has nothing to do with a lack of faith in her skills, Arya goes on the offensive again. Jon has gotten a good read on her style by now, so when Arya performs another lightning fast jab, he’s ready to deflect it.

Except instead of ducking to the side as expected, Arya slides forward with near inhuman grace, his sword passing a mere breath over her hair and Jon is already stepping back when Arya, having slipped past all his defenses, jabs her sword up.

The wood halts right before it would have hit the underside of his chin. In a real fight, she would’ve jammed a blade straight through his head.

She would’ve killed him.

Arya’s expression is frighteningly cold. Only her eyes, fierce and determined, remain familiar.

“I’m no longer the girl I used to be, Jon.”

“Of course you are," he has to say despite knowing she won't react well to it. "You’re no longer a child,” Jon clarifies when he sees her anger return, "but you’re still the girl I grew up with. You’re still my sister.”

Jon gives in to the urge to cup her cheek, needing to touch her to assure himself she’s truly here. Arya lowers her sword, her expression unreadable but her eyes filled with too many emotions to parse. Jon’s voice softens further.

“You’re still Arya. You always will be.” The girl who’s always been his favorite, the girl who makes laugh as no one else can. The girl Jon loves more than he loves anyone else.

Arya’s expression is no longer unreadable. Instead she’s looking at him like he just gave her a gift she never dared hope for. Her hand comes up to cover his own and Jon is overwhelmed by the need to hold her, uncaring of the people watching them.

Arya surges forward before he can and holds him instead. Jon embraces her back, his throat too tight as he’s hit by Arya being alive all over again. By her being here with him.

He has his sister back.

Arya whispers something into his shoulder, but whatever it is, it’s too soft to make out. Then she pulls back and gives him a bright smile, looking exactly like the girl she claimed to no longer be.

“I won. Seems I'm even better than you now.”

“I was holding back,” Jon returns with a smile of his own, impossible to contain it when Arya is looking at him like this. It makes Arya grin just like she used to, and it strikes Jon even further how little she’s changed. Unlike Sansa, who's retained mere traces of the girl he used to know, Arya is just like he remembers her. Not entirely of course, she’s no longer the child she used to be. She’s been through things no one ever should. She has a side of danger to her Jon knows he’s only caught the merest glimpse of.

She’s still Arya. She’s still the girl who warms him as no one else can.

She’s still the family he's missed more than any other in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words Arya whispered were: A girl is Arya Stark.
> 
> And now I'm off to go see the third episode. I'm bracing myself for the heartbreak I know I'm going to experience. Also, we're one chapter away from entering the final arc of this story! Which is going to encompass a lot of chapters, so don't go thinking this story is nearly finished. It really isn't.
> 
> EDIT: I saw the third episode and I'm just... I'm so disappointed. It feels so anticlimactic. Was it an epic battle? Yes. Was it good storytelling? No. No, it really wasn't.
> 
> On the bright side, I'm so proud of myself for how I chose to have Arya end the spar between her and Jon. Like, when the library scene happened, I genuinely couldn't believe how spot on my own finishing move was.


	20. Chapter 20

After his spar with Arya, Jon is prevented from returning to his duties by an unexpected visitor.

Rhaegal comes to New Castle. By the time Jon arrives outside, Rhaegal has already gathered himself a large audience, though none are foolish enough to approach him. His people are also curious enough to overcome their fear. Jon sees many ill at ease expressions, but all are accompanied by fascination as well. None make a move to leave either, though they do look to him for guidance on what to do.

Arya shows no fear. Instead she watches Rhaegal with bright eyes and a delighted smile. Jon wonders yet again how she managed to avoid his notice this morning, for the sight of her like this is one that draws his attention as nothing else can. Yet when he’d mentioned to Arya his surprise over her absence this morning, she’d given him a satisfied smile and countered with a _who said I wasn_ _’_ _t there?_

When Rhaegal spots him, he turns pleased and tells him to come over with a jerk of his head. Jon tells the people watching to stay back before moving closer. He knows this is going to cause yet more tales about him, but really, being discourteous to a Dragon is just asking for trouble. As King, it’s his duty to set a good example for his people.

Arya gives him a questioning look, but when he tilts his head in invitation, she lights up and follows. Jon might need to be courteous to Rhaegal, but this doesn’t prevent him from indulging Arya at the same time.

Rhaegal doesn’t agree with his assessment. The moment Arya comes too close for comfort, he hisses at her. Jon is grateful Arya listens without any prompting from him. She tenses up as well, but it’s an instinctive reaction, not one born from true fear.

Jon is amused when him halting with Arya causes Rhaegal to turn confused.

“I’m not leaving my sister, Rhaegal.”

Rhaegal lifts his head with surprise, before looking down at him with such offense. He can’t believe Jon would chose his family over the magnificence that is Rhaegal himself.

Arya looks like an idea just occurred to her. Jon realizes what that idea is when she formally straightens her posture and holds Rhaegal’s gaze. Or tries to hold it. Rhaegal is focused on Jon and Jon alone.

“Great Rhaegal, I would be honored to fly with you.”

Jon has to smile at how adorable she’s being. He also isn’t surprised in the slightest when Rhaegal ignores Arya. There’s a reason Daenerys and her people were so surprised her Dragons sometimes bother to respond to him.

“She said she’d be honored to fly with you,” Jon says. As expected, Rhaegal doesn’t respond to him either. He heard him, but Rhaegal sees no need to respond to what he considers to be a declaration of the obvious. Anyone would be honored to fly with him.

“She’s asking if you’d allow her to fly with you,” Jon clarifies. This time Rhaegal does react, looking at him like he can’t believe what a moron Jon is. It makes Arya tense up again, but aside from giving him a quick glance, her focus remains on Rhaegal.

Rhaegal lets out a derisive snort and gives him a pointed look before he lifts off. Telling him he has no wish to remain for fear of Jon’s stupidity being contagious.

“That’s a no?” Arya asks, watching Rhaegal’s departure with disappointment.

“That’s a no,” Jon confirms, amused as he watches Rhaegal leave. Rhaegal’s continuing contempt over what Jon asked of him is clear, but Jon is fairly certain he’s sulking a little as well. How dare Jon prefer to spend time with his family instead of with Rhaegal himself.

“Was he angry you asked?” Arya asks, and while Jon already knew people can’t read Dragons the same way he can, being confronted by it like this is still surprising. Dragons are as expressive as direwolves are. While Jon can understand other people not being able to read Dragons, most can’t read direwolves either, he expected Arya to be able to do it. She reads direwolves with the same ease all in their family do.

“He thought I was the greatest fool alive for asking,” he answers while glancing at their audience, glad they’re far away enough for their words to remain private. As long as he and Arya don’t raise their voice, that is.

Arya grins, amused and a touch incredulous.

“You really can’t tell how he’s feeling?” Jon has to ask.

“I saw a Dragon bare his very large teeth at you, reminding me that I’m soft and small while he is not, before he let out a sound that made every hair on my body shoot up straight.”

And here Jon thought Arya held no fear of Dragons.

“You couldn’t tell the sound was derisive?” he asks, still finding it so strange none but him seems to be able to understand Dragons. Or rather, none aside from him, Daenerys, and her people. And Jon is fairly certain her people can only read Dragons only because of how much time they’ve spend with them.

“Not in the slightest,” Arya says while giving him a pensive look. “You would’ve mentioned if you’d turned into a warg, wouldn’t you?”

Jon looks at her with surprise. Where did that come from?

“It would explain how you can read them,” Arya says in response to his look. Jon supposes that’s as good an explanation as any. Better than most, in fact. House Stark is known for being skinchangers. It’s lessened greatly in recent times, but it used to be at least one child every generation was a warg.

There’s just one problem with her theory.

“I’m not a warg. Yes, I’m sure,” Jon adds when Arya opens her mouth to ask just that. He’d know if he’d seen through the eyes of an animal. That is not the kind of thing one can miss.

Arya shrugs.

“Maybe you are one but merely haven’t warged yet.”

Given how many times there have been where warging would’ve been extremely useful, Jon is fairly certain that Arya is wrong and he isn’t a warg. But perhaps he holds the potential for it. Or rather, a greater potential than is normal for those who carry their blood. Perhaps that potential is all that is needed in order to read Dragons. Jon supposes he’ll know for certain when Bran meets Dragons.

The remainder of the day passes quickly. Jon explains to Lord Wyman why Rhaegal came by, Davos lets drop with false casualness that Rhaegal likes Jon, and Jon busies himself with work in order to ignore his discomfort. He knows why Davos did it, understands it will ease the resistance against Daenerys remaining here with her Dragons when one of those Dragons likes their King, but that doesn’t stop him from being discomforted. Having tall tales spread about him is one of the least pleasant things about his crown.

Fortunately, Arya is there to make fun of his position as King.

When Daenerys arrives for dinner, Jon feels the last of his discomfort fade. It’s hard to worry about the tales being spread about him when he’s in the presence of a true living legend.

It’s hard to worry when she treats him like a man and not a King. Daenerys might be considerate towards his crown, but she’s considerate only because Jon would be displeased if she wasn’t.

Arya, after giving him a wicked smile and telling him to not do anything she herself wouldn’t do, leaves him and Daenerys alone. Jon slight embarrassment at her teasing soon fades under the heady look Daenerys gives him. They’re alone in the space proved for him to receive guests, and Jon is acutely aware that his bed is only a room away. Nothing happens aside from some heavy flirting of course, but the intimacy of their surroundings makes the tension between them even worse than usual. The intimacy is made even greater by how near Daenerys seats herself, their chairs pushed together so they can be as close as is possible while still seated in separate chairs.

The part of him that’s always disappointed Daenerys doesn’t push for more is even stronger than usual, yet at the same time, Jon feels strangely content. The knowledge Daenerys won’t deepen their relationship without his permission means he can allow himself to show the desire she inspires without worry. And to show the jealousy she inspires as well.

“I don’t like the thought of you flying with other people,” he confesses. If Daenerys knows how much it would displease him, she might stop offering it to others. A fool’s hope, Jon is well aware of that, but Daenerys has a talent for bringing out the fool in him.

“You’re jealous,” Daenerys says with slight surprise and a great deal of delight. Jon feels himself scowl, his mood dampened by the return of the aforementioned jealousy. It makes Daenerys gain a slow smile.

“Perhaps it would help to know my offer to them doesn’t include what we shared,” she says in a low voice. When Jon gives her an unimpressed look, not amused by the blatant platitude, Daenerys’ smile turns wicked. She leans towards him even further and Jon is once again of how easy it would be to kiss her. “I’ve never flown with anyone as I flew with you, Jon,” she purrs and it takes all his strength not to close the distance between them.

He also can’t stop himself from demanding she elaborate on her words. Daenerys chuckles and leans back enough for Jon to regain his wits.

He’s relieved to hear Daenerys has never made Drogon dive as she did with him. He’s even more relieved to her that she never, in her words, felt the need to continue their ride even after leaving the sky.

Doesn’t stop him from feeling jealous still. Daenerys takes pity on him and distracts him by leaning almost too close once more. It’s hard to be jealous when she’s looking at him like she’d give anything to be able to touch him. When he’s treated to the light of the fire dancing over her hair in the most mesmerizing of ways, when it warms her skin in a way that makes his hands itch with the need to hold her. When he can’t help but wonder what the small scar on her bottom lip would feel like were he to kiss her.

That night, Jon isn’t surprised in the slightest when he dreams of Daenerys. And unlike when aboard her ship, Jon can allow himself to enjoy his dream in the privacy of his room.

When he goes to the training yard, he feels relaxed in a way he rarely does. Even Arya sneaking up on him doesn’t do more than make him tense up momentarily. Her teasing of his feelings for Daenerys inspires more amusement than embarrassment as well.

He’s grateful Arya ensures her teasing isn’t overheard by others. Aside from Sam, that is.

Sam is completely shocked.

“You’re in love with her?”

The incredulous demand is enough to ruin some of Jon’s high spirits.

“I don’t love Daenerys,” he bites out, giving Sam a glare to show this is not a topic open to discussion. Arya teasing him over his attraction to Daenerys he can handle, but he has no intention of having either Sam or Arya turn his feelings into something they’re not. He’s infatuated to a ridiculous degree, but he’s worked hard to keep that from turning into true love. He won’t have that effort be dismissed.

“But you like her,” Arya says in a voice dripping with innuendo, and hearing that from Arya of all people is strange indeed.

The calculating look she’s giving him is new as well. At the same time, it isn’t entirely unfamiliar. It should be, yet the way her eyes have narrowed, the way she’s holding her lips, the furrow of her brow.

Arya looks a little like Sansa does when she’s picking apart all the things he doesn’t want to say out loud.

Jon hesitates. But it’s not as though he needs to keep this a secret. Not from Arya and Sam.

“I do.”

Sam’s mind boggles some more. Arya loses her calculation in favor of becoming adorably pleased with herself.

“But you’re–”

Sam cuts himself off with a panicked flail. Jon gives him an unimpressed look. While he half expected Sam to be surprised by his feelings for Daenerys, he worked hard to ensure they aren’t obvious, Sam is acting like he’s infatuated with the Mad King reborn instead of Daenerys Stormborn.

“You’re King in the North, that’s what I meant to say,” Sam babbles, trying to recover from his blunder. “And you’re a Stark, of course you’re a Stark, and she’s the Pirate Queen, the Targaryen Pirate Queen, who belongs to House Targaryen like– why do you like her?”

Sam manages to keep himself from further word vomit with the greatest of efforts. Part of Jon remains offended on Daenerys’ behalf, for it’s clear Sam cut himself off because he was about to compare her to her father. Jon knows Sam doesn’t truly believe that, he’d never have asked Daenerys to carry Gilly if that were the case. The words were caused by his habit of blurting out the worst things possible when trying to recover from a blunder. Doesn’t mean they aren’t offensive.

Most of him is amused by how hard Sam is tripping over his own tongue. It hasn’t been this bad in a long time.

“The way she dresses might have something to do with it,” Arya says mischievously and Jon feels the back of his neck heat up a little. He’s still more amused than anything else, though.

“I won’t deny she’s nice to look at,” he says. It makes Arya grin. Sam continues the battle to contain another word vomit.

“But that isn’t the only thing you like about her?” Arya asks, and Jon allows himself to answer honestly.

“She’s so free.”

Arya is surprised by his answer. Jon is surprised to discover that now he’s begun talking, he can’t seem to stop.

“She enjoys life like no one I’ve ever met. She doesn’t care what anyone thinks of how she acts, will do as she pleases as long as it doesn’t harm the innocent. But she’s so respectful as well, never demanding more than people are willing to give.”

The words keep coming, impossible to contain them. Jon can’t tell this to Davos, not when Davos has made clear he thinks Jon should start courting Daenerys. Davos no longer brings that up of course, but Jon is well aware he hasn’t changed his mind about this issue. It means he can’t talk to Davos about his feelings for Daenerys.

He can to Arya and Sam.

By the time Jon stops talking about all the things he likes about Daenerys, Arya is torn between incredulity and hilarity. Sam, on the other hand, is dazed to the point the threat of babbling has disappeared.

“You sound just like Sansa used to,” Arya marvels to herself. The truth of her words makes him let out a deep sigh, exasperated at his own reaction.

“I know. It’s awful.”

“It’s perfect,” Arya returns without hesitation, the words spoken without thought.

Her next words are deliberate.

“Sansa is going to be so mad.”

The prediction is delivered with a familiar grin. Arya might have a newfound respect for Sansa, but she still loves riling her up as well.

Sam continues to struggle with the knowledge that Jon is infatuated with Daenerys.

“I’m fine, of course I’m fine,” Sam lies. “I just... I need to think about this. A lot.”

Fortunately for Sam, Jon has work to do. Before he leaves, he invites Sam to come along to Daenerys later on, but he isn’t surprised when Sam declines. Really though, Sam is overreacting. It’s better than having Sam tease him, Jon supposes, but that doesn’t change the fact he’s overreacting.

When the time arrives to go to Daenerys’ camp, Jon and Arya are the only ones to go. Davos declined his invitation, and Jon refuses to bring along Lord Wyman or any of his people. He’ll bring them along next time, anything else would be dishonorable, but right now Jon is in no mood to watch his every word around Daenerys. Neither is he in the mood to see her be treated like her father’s daughter.

He and Arya go to the camp by horse, and Jon is resigned to the comparison he can’t help but make to flying. He was right about horse riding being ruined for him forever.

When they arrive, Jon finds an encampment as semi-permanent as the one on Dragonstone Isle. He also sees the ice has been cleared by fire, though not from snow. The snow is a result from last night though, and in the places where it’s been cleared, the earth shows distinctive marks. Daenerys might dislike asking her children to do things they won’t enjoy, but she has no trouble asking them to do things they’d otherwise be indifferent to.

Daenerys, waiting for their arrival, welcomes them with delight. And when Arya expresses curiosity about the camp she’s created, she proudly takes them on a tour, something she didn’t do on Dragonstone Isle.

But then, Jon hadn’t asked for one there.

The tour is how Jon discovers that while her people mingle freely among each other when on land, the tents are set up according to their ships. After becoming aware of this, Jon spots the pattern in how they’re clustered together, and he starts seeing the subtle similarities and differences in decorations. His comparison to the Free Folk is turning out to be even more accurate than he thought it was.

To no surprise, Arya shows the greatest interest in the training fields set up. The majority of people practising are Unsullied, but at least a third is composed of others. Jon had seen similar sights on Dragonstone Isle. People getting rid of the cabin fever that comes from living on a ship.

Jon is relieved when Arya doesn’t ask for a spar. The thought crosses her mind, that much is more than clear, but she doesn’t ask for one.

Her lack of invitation might have something to do with her being distracted by Rhaegal landing nearby. Relatively nearby, that is. Rhaegal is seated well away from camp.

Just like at New Castle, Rhaegal tells him to come over. This time Jon agrees to his request, telling Arya to wait here for him. And to please not challenge people to duels while he’s gone.

Arya actually pouts at him, and while Jon can tell she’s acting like a child on purpose, that doesn’t stop the familiar sight from warming him.

It doesn’t stop him from being grateful for how little she’s changed.

Rhaegal turns out to have no interest in conversation. Instead he wishes to watch Jon as has become usual.

“I don’t understand why he finds me so interesting,” Jon says to Daenerys, who’s caressing Rhaegal’s jaw. Jon ignores the familiar envy he feels at Daenerys being allowed to touch her children whenever she so pleases.

“I understand perfectly myself.”

Her flirting makes a smile tug at his lips but he still asks for a real answer to his question. Unfortunately, Daenerys has none to give. In part because Dragons rarely feel the need to explain themselves, and in part because Daenerys herself never bothered to ask. She doesn’t care about the why, is merely happy Rhaegal likes him so much.

Of course, when she does ask, Rhaegal doesn’t bother to reply. At least, not out loud.

“He’s fascinated by you, but that is all he considers worthy of sharing,” Daenerys tells him, and part of Jon once again marvels at how casual she is about the magic she holds. She enjoys flaunting it as well, but on the whole, Daenerys sees nothing unusual about all she can do. Her abilities are normal for a Dragon after all.

“I’m flattered,” Jon returns truthfully, keeping an eye on Arya as she attempts to engage an Unsullied in conversation. She fails of course, but that doesn’t stop her from trying. Three people have joined her, two men and a woman, and while the distance is making it hard to tell, Jon is fairly certain they’re amused by Arya’s attempt. At the least, they aren’t displeased by it, that much is clear to see.

The woman says something that makes Arya smile, though Arya is too far away for Jon to tell what kind of smile it is. He thinks it’s a friendly one though, for Arya replies with something that makes the man besides her laugh. The woman she spoke to grins as well.

Daenerys leaves Rhaegal to come stand besides him.

“Your sister is wonderful.”

The words cause a dangerous surge of affection, but Jon is incapable of smothering it as he should. Daenerys and Arya getting along as well as they are is a precious gift indeed.

“She is.”

“I would enjoy sparring with her,” Daenerys continues with false innocence. Jon feels a wry smile grow.

“She would enjoy it as well. I’d still prefer if you’d wait a while longer, though.” He might no longer see Rickon as strongly as he did at first, but the memory is still there.

Daenerys lets out a disappointed sigh belied by her smile.

“I suppose I can be patient a little while longer.”

“I’m honored the great Daenerys Stormborn considers me worthy of patience.”

Daenerys grins.

“Of course, exercising patience doesn’t mean I’m not allowed to show my displeasure,” she says playfully. Before Jon can do more than raise a brow at her, Daenerys bends down in a way that distracts him to point it takes him a moment to register what she’s doing.

Daenerys has grabbed some snow and is now throwing a sloppily made snowball at him. Jon avoids it by stepping out of the way. Then he keeps moving as Daenerys continues to assault him. All snowballs are as awful as her first. She doesn’t pack the snow together tight enough, meaning her projectiles are already losing their shape before they even have a chance to hit him. Southerners.

This Southern girl’s eyes are bright in a way that turns them even more mesmerizing than usual, and her smile is breathtaking. Jon, feeling himself smile back, dodges another low quality snowball before grabbing some ammunition of his own and going on the offensive. Unlike Daenerys’ haphazard attempts, his own snowballs are the perfect balance between firm and soft, ensuring they’ll fly true but won’t hurt on impact.

Daenerys turns out to be as fast as Arya is, but where Arya doesn’t waste a single movement, Daenerys is wild and exuberant, leaping every way and rolling over the ground without care. She’s exerting a lot of unnecessary energy. Not enough to tire her out fast, but enough to tire her out before him. And he’s the one wearing armor.

On the other hand, Daenerys doesn’t need to outlast him. She has the upper hand. His armor might allow more mobility than is common for this type of protection, but his cloak and Longclaw are in the way. Daenerys’ short swords and lack of clothing, on the other hand, don’t hinder her mobility in any way. It’s causing a fair number of her sloppy snowballs to find their mark, while he’s yet to manage a hit on her.

Of course, even without the disadvantage at mobility, Jon could never win against Daenerys. The reason for this is simple.

She has Dragons.

Without warning, Rhaegal buries him beneath a wave of snow with a swipe of his wing, the impact so great it makes Jon duck and protect his head on instinct. Jon lowers his arms to Daenerys’ bright laughter and Rhaegal radiating smug satisfaction. Before Jon can do more than get back to his feet, there’s the distinct sound of a Dragon diving down and Viserion slams into Rhaegal at full speed, the two of them rolling over the ground and making snow fly everywhere. They also destroy several trees, broken trunks and crushed branches left behind in their passage.

Rhaegal and Viserion break their roll at about the same time, full of delight as they start up a snow battle of their own. The noise they’re causing is deafening, but they still move further away when Daenerys tells them to. Jon enjoys the spectacular sight a moment longer, before looking at Arya to see what she thinks of Dragons acting like puppies.

Arya is gone. Jon smothers the worry attempting to rise as he looks for her again, but then he’s distracted by the happenings he catches from the corner of his vision. Daenerys is about to throw another snowball at him. Jon absently prepares to dodge while he continues to look for Arya.

Daenerys is hit in the head with a snowball thrown at her from their shared blind spot, Daenerys whipping her head towards the source even faster than him. Jon is both relieved and exasperated to see it was thrown by Arya. Her newfound ability to disappear whenever she so wishes is going to cause him a lot of worry.

“I can hardly let my brother face the Mother of Dragons without me,” she says with a satisfied grin, raising her voice to be heard over the noise created by two Dragons wrestling with each other. Then Daenerys accepts Arya’s challenge, throwing the snowball she’d made at Arya instead of him. While Arya dodges with ease, Jon wastes no time in taking advantage of the opening she’s provided, going on the offensive once more. Arya occupying Daenerys with pinpoint accuracy, her snowballs of the same high quality as his own, means he can engage Daenerys in close quarters. He does just that while grabbing the exact amount needed to shove in someone’s face.

When his move hits, Daenerys stumbles back with a sputter and the brightest of smiles. Jon feels satisfied in a way he hasn’t been in ages. Daenerys might be able to take him on her own, but she stands no chance against him and Arya together. Not unless she calls for her Dragons, something she doesn’t seem inclined to do. Rhaegal and Viserion are still locked in a game of their own, while Drogon is nowhere to be seen.

Of course, even without her children, Daenerys still has her people. Several soon move to support her, a quick glance revealing their weapons have been put aside at the training fields, and the support means he and Arya are forced on the defensive.

To Jon’s surprise, he and Arya gain some support of their own. Tyrion and Ser Barristan join their side first, Tyrion quipping that Westerosi need to stick together, but others soon follow. Daenerys’ side continues to grow as well. In no time at all, dozens turns into hundreds. It seems like everyone but the Unsullied have joined the game.

The result is utter chaos. What began as two clear sides dissolves into a free for all, war cries of all kinds filling the air. The heat of battle takes over, yet at the same time, it’s nothing like it. There’s no fear accompanying the pounding of his heart and the rushing of his blood. Instead there’s only excitement and near childish delight.

He and Arya manage to make their way to the edge of camp, where they get rid of their weapons and cloaks, and this time Arya puts away her hidden dagger as well. Then they rejoin the battle at full strength. Now neither of them have to worry about stabbing someone on reflex.

It turns out their skill against Daenerys wasn’t a fluke. The two of them make a formidable team. Arya’s speed and accuracy means she creates numerous openings for him to engage people at close range, and Jon takes advantage of that in a variety of ways, shoving snow in people’s faces, tripping them up, pushing them over, or just plain tackling them. He gets battered just as much of course, several bruises are going to follow. But whenever he’s about to be overwhelmed, Arya is suddenly there, appearing behind people out of nowhere and shoving snow into their necks.

Eventually, they do get separated. The chaos is so great Jon can’t manage to find her again. Jon does see that there are places where people are throwing snowballs without physically engaging each other, and he starts making his way towards a calmer spot so he can find Arya more easily.

He finds Daenerys instead. Or rather, Daenerys finds him. She announces her presence by throwing a snowball against the back of his head, making him spin around to face the source of the attack.

He comes face to face with Daenerys, her swords gone, her hand holding another snowball ready to be thrown, and her grin as wild as it was when flying.

She’s so close Jon moves without thought, the opportunity too good to pass. He tackles her. Then Jon remembers Daenerys hates being on her back and he manages just in time to reverse their position before they hit the ground.

The result is Daenerys straddling him in a way that causes his heart to race in an entirely different way. It becomes even harder to think when her gaze turns heady. She leans down and Jon can’t look away from the sway of her breasts, can’t think beyond the feeling of the thighs straddling him and the hips held beneath his hands and he really needs to take off his gloves except he can’t because Daenerys is about to kiss him and Jon vaguely realizes he’s about to kiss her back.

Daenerys shoves snow in his face instead. While Jon sputters and tries to regain his wits, Daenerys darts off him with a laugh. Jon is already chasing after her before he even realizes what he’s doing.

He’s grinning even harder than before.

Had things continued as they were, who knows how long it would have taken before there was any kind of victor.

Things don’t remain as they are. Instead something happens Jon never saw coming.

The Unsullied join in. Out of nowhere they sweep over the battlefield, systematically destroying all resistance with their signature efficiency and unparalleled teamwork. Jon lasts a little longer than most, five Unsullied working together to take him down, and he sees Arya hold out a little longer still, but in the end, both of them are defeated as soundly as everyone else is.

When a group of Unsullied led by Torgo Nudho manages to surround Daenerys, Daenerys dramatically surrenders and declares them the victors of the battle.

Jon has never seen Unsullied hold whispers of smiles as they do now.

The battle over, the Unsullied start helping people up. There are smiles all around and laughter fills the air. Rhaegal and Viserion have finished their game as well, neither seeming to mind that there was no clear victor. They fly towards Drogon, who returned from wherever he’d gone to and settled down for a nap sometime during the battle. Jon watches with amusement as Rhaegal drapes himself over Drogon like he’s the most comfortable seat in the world. Drogon grumbles loud enough to be heard even at this distance, but he looks content just as Rhaegal does. So does Viserion, who lands on Drogon’s opposite side and snuggles up to him. Drogon shifts his position so both Rhaegal and Viserion will be more comfortable.

Jon and Arya gather their weapons and clothes, before following Daenerys into a large tent. The fire burning merrily in the center of the space gives off wonderful heat. The amount of people present ensures the air is even warmer. Most of them are familiar, belonging to the crew he’s come to know in person, but there are a fair number of unfamiliar faces. All of them are as dirty and battered as him, Arya and Daenerys.

He and Arya take off their drenched outerwear. Despite knowing he’s safe here, Jon feels discomfort rise when he takes off the plate protecting his heart. He forces himself to ignore that, settling down the furs acting as replacements for normal seating, his back to the wall and all entrance points in sight.

Arya seats herself besides him, Needle placed next to her so she’ll be able to draw it with the same ease Jon can draw Longclaw. He and Arya are offered cloth and water to get off the worst of the dirt, food and drinks to recover from the exertion, and combs to get their hair back into a semblance of order. Arya is a lot worse off than him, courtesy of her hair being unbound for the most part, but his own isn’t in the greatest of states either. No one’s is, aside from those who keep their head clean shaven but for their golden braid.

Daenerys, seated only a little further away than Arya, has finished cleaning up and is now using a comb to untangle the mess that is Missandei’s hair. Missandei’s eyes are closed as she basks in Daenerys’ care. Torgo Nudho, clean shaven as the majority of Unsullied are, has seated himself behind Daenerys and is gently working out the gold woven through the bright strands. The sight is strangely enticing. Jon is so used to seeing Daenerys with her golden braids that seeing her hair unbound and loose makes him feel like he’s witnessing something intimate and private. It also inspires faint jealousy towards Torgo Nudho for being allowed to touch Daenerys like this, but Jon firmly smothers the feeling. It’s one thing to be jealous about Daenerys flying with other people, another thing entirely to be jealous of the closeness she shares with her friends.

Keeping his jealousy under control is made easier Daenerys being unable to keep her eyes off his own hair. Jon let it hang loose so it might dry, and the sight draws Daenerys attention even more than seeing him with less layers than usual does. Though that is definitely drawing her attention as well. But his hair holds her focus the most. It’s been a long time since Jon has been vain about his hair, but the way Daenerys stares at it reminds that his hair is gorgeous to an exceptional degree. He should take better care of it.

Jon puts words into action by working to untangle his curls. They aren’t as wild as Missandei’s by far, but having them made wet by snow has turned them unruly. It requires some work to get out all the knots.

He ensures Daenerys has a good view of his work. Daenerys is more than a little pleased with his decision.

Arya, of course, teases him about posing for Daenerys, though she does it with a subtle wordplay, and the look she gives him reveals she’ll stop if he asks her to. When Jon smiles at her with permission, Arya loses all subtlety. She also attempts to tease Daenerys about her feelings for him.

Unfortunately for Arya, Daenerys is immune to embarrassment. She frankly admits to thinking him the most gorgeous man she’s ever seen. It makes the back of his neck heat up a little, but for the most part Jon is flattered. He’s aware he’s considered beautiful by most people’s standards, something that annoyed him when he was younger, for he wished to be thought of as handsome instead. But he started caring less about his appearance as time passed, and he stopped caring completely after the betrayal of his Brothers.

Daenerys makes him care again. Which is why he ensures his hair looks as good as it can get without taking an actual bath. And why he keeps it unbound.

Daenerys is deeply appreciative of his decision to let his hair hang loose.

Arya, her own hair no longer a bird’s nest, looks at him with equal incredulity and hilarity. Jon shrugs. At New Castle he has to take care in how he acts, but among Daenerys’ people he doesn’t. They couldn’t care less about either his crown or about propriety. As long as he doesn’t harm anyone, he’s free to do as he wishes. It’s the core principle they live by. And it’s exampled once more by the people present. There are as many people all but naked as there are people in armor. As many people touching each other as there are people alone. Though there’s nothing more intimate going on than cuddling. Jon is fairly certain that wouldn’t have been the case if he and Arya hadn’t been here.  

Jon sees Tyrion sprawled in Naakia’s lap, talking to her with a smile while she gently works out the tangles in his hair. Ser Barristan, his own blade within easy reach, is seated as close to the fire as is possible, a fair number of people doing the same. Some people are talking, others watch in silence, but all seem content. The atmosphere is relaxed and peaceful. It’s easy to get swept away by that peace, until his discomfort over his lack of armor is barely noticeable. Jon knows he could put it back on and none would take offense, but doing so would feel disrespectful. It would feel like he’s telling these people he doesn’t trust them.

He does trust them. Not in the way he trusts his own people, but he trusts they won’t turn hostile without cause.

When Daenerys flirts with him and Jon flirts back on habit, Arya looks at him like what he’s doing is the strangest thing she’s ever seen. But then, it’s not like she has a lot of experience with seeing him flirt.

Jon wavers briefly, but he decides to keep acting as he wishes. It’s not like there’s any harm in it. Not here.

Not when Arya is talking to Daenerys like they’re close friends.

“Where did you learn to fight?” Arya asks because of course she does.

“I learned from pirates,” Daenerys says, surprising him. While it’s clear most of her training wasn’t formal, it wasn’t entirely without order either. She has some bad habits, but she also spots and exploits the kind of openings people need to be taught about.

“Not your own, I take it?” Arya asks with a nod at the people present, relaxed like he was, but also picking apart every word Daenerys says. Another reminder she’s no longer a child.

“No.”

The answer, short and elaborating nothing, reveals this is a topic Daenerys has no wish to discuss. Which is how Jon is reminded of what she told him of her past. Of being a slave to a pirate for years.

It reminds him she was once forced to fight to the death to protect her children. Part of him still wonders about the details, but he’ll never ask Daenerys. He’ll listen if she wishes to share, but he won’t ask himself.

She never demands he reveal things he doesn’t want to talk about either.

When Arya opens her mouth to keep questioning Daenerys, Jon shakes his head. Arya, her eyes sharp as they look over Daenerys, her scars in particular, listens. It earns her assessing looks from the nearest people listening in, and Jon know Daenerys’ people appreciate Arya’s courtesy. All are allowed to do as they wish, but none are obligated to share what they wish to keep private. None are allowed to forcefully take what isn’t offered either. This includes conversation.

“I was taught by Ser Barristan as well, though that happened later,” Daenerys says, and Arya takes the topic and runs with it. Jon feels himself relax further as he listens to his sister and Daenerys talk, Daenerys asking after Arya’s own training. He knows he should be working harder to contain his feelings, knows the strength of his feelings is becoming dangerous.

He can’t feel any guilt over failing to contain them. Not even after he loses even the last of his already tenacious hold on them.

“I already have what I want,” Daenerys says in response to Arya asking what she wishes for in life. Daenerys delivers the words with a warm look at Missandei, who tilts her head back so she can look at Daenerys with just as much warmth. Then Daenerys looks at the people spread around the tent and she softens even further. Jon knows what her answer means but he still can’t help but ask.

“A family?”

Daenerys gains a faint smile and meets his gaze, her expression even warmer than before.

“A home.”

Jon knows the affection those words inspire is dangerous, knows he should be trying to contain it, but how can he when Daenerys goes and says something like this?

Arya shakes her head with incredulity, which tells him all he needs to know over how obvious he’s being about his feelings.

When he and Arya finally leave the camp, far more time has passed than Jon had planned for.

He can’t find it within himself to regret it. He’ll make up for the loss later on. Right now he wants to enjoy the peace he so rarely feels.

Arya makes that difficult to do.

“Why aren’t you two together?”

“Not you as well,” Jon says, exasperated and a little betrayed by Arya picking Davos’ side.

“It’s a serious question, Jon,” Arya returns, and while she’s amused by his reaction, her words are honest. “You two are gone for each other. Even Sansa never acted like this.”

Jon bites back a sarcastic retort. Instead he answers the question honestly. If Arya wishes for a serious answer, he’ll give her one.

“I’m King in the North.”

Arya gains a weirded out expression, sharing in the disbelief Jon himself still feels over this fact.

“I’m already having trouble just by bringing Daenerys here,” he continues. “How much worse will it be should I enter a relationship with her? Not even court her, merely getting involved with her would ruin things. There wouldn’t just be trouble, people would revolt.” Which would require him to put down those revolts. The North has already lost far too many. They can’t afford another civil war. Not when the Long Night is coming. And not when Cersei is ready to take advantage of any divided loyalty either. Jon wishes it were as simple as bringing Daenerys here and having his people accept his judgement, but that's a fool's hope. 

It's a hope that led to him being betrayed by his Brothers. Before that moment, Jon believed they would accept his decision despite their concerns, believed his Brothers would honor the trust they placed in him. 

He refuses to make the same mistake twice.

Arya looks at him with the calculation that reminds of him of Sansa. Which makes her next words all the more ironic.

“You sound like Sansa.”

Jon never thought there would come a day where Arya delivered those words as a compliment.

“People won’t mistrust her forever, though,” Arya continues matter of factly. Jon replies with a look that tells her this topic is closed.

He isn’t surprised when Arya ignores his command with a shameless shrug.

“I’m just saying, the trouble won’t last. What will you do after?”

“I’d prefer to handle one problem at a time.” It’s a luxury he so rarely gets to experience after all.

To his relief, Arya lets the matter rest. He does understand her reasoning, but even with her having followed him around for two days, she’s underestimating just how much opposition Daenerys is inspiring. How dangerously close it is to turning into true insubordination. She’s also underestimating the trouble Daenerys herself is going to cause. With what Arya has seen from her, it’s easy to think of Daenerys as agreeable. And in many ways she is.

In others she won’t bend even the slightest bit. She not only can but will enforce her own laws on the North. Their saving grace is that those laws are, for the most part, the same as those the North already holds.

Their saving grace is that Daenerys will punish the person who commited the crime, not the people they belong to. Her utter disregard for House and family, on the other hand, could lead to grave problems indeed.

Yet even ignoring that, even had Daenerys been willing to follow his rule, there would still be trouble. The reason for this is shown most clearly when, days later, Daenerys has her Dragons gather salt. Large trenches have been dug in the shore outside White Harbor, and after the tide has filled them, Rhaegal, Drogon and Viserion land next to them and get to work.

The result is breathtaking. Jon has seen them breathe fire often now, but he’s never seen it like this. The flames simply don’t stop, bright streams lighting up the endless steam hiding all three Dragons from view, their shadows great and ominous. The flames only stop for as long as it takes them to take them to draw another deep breath and release their fire again. While Jon knows this is going to tire them out fast, the sheer power Dragons can unleash hits him all over again.

It hits Lord Wyman as well.

“They could destroy us all.”

The words are soft to the point of being barely audible. When Jon glances at Wyman, standing besides him, he sees Lord Wyman wear an expression of fear he hasn’t allow himself to show till now. Jon understands. The sight they’re being treated to is beautiful in the most terrible of ways. Jon knows Lord Wyman is imagining these Dragons unleashing their fire on White Harbor. Knows Lord Wyman is imagining houses and people being wiped away with the same ease the Dragons are wiping away the seawater.

He knows Lord Wyman’s fear is why he’s being so unreasonable. Why he and so many others are edging dangerously close to true insubordination. Armies, fleets, those a Lord can protect his people from. They might not always succeed, but even when facing the worst of odds, people are capable of finding hope of victory.

There’s no hope of victory against Dragons.

“They could,” Jon agrees, for not acknowledging this fact would be foolish. When Lord Wyman tears his eyes away from the display of power, Jon holds his gaze to impress his sincerity on him. “They won’t unless we make them.”

Lord Wyman grimaces but acknowledges his words with a deferential tilt of his head. By now he’s come to understand that Daenerys is not her father’s daughter, even with the knowledge of what she did in Slaver’s Bay. He understands her Dragons aren’t mindless beasts either, acknowledges they can be reasoned with in their own way.

His understanding doesn’t stop him from fearing the legends that could destroy them all.

He isn’t the only one who fears what Rhaegal, Drogon and Viserion are capable of. Daenerys invited all those who wished to watch to come, though from a significant distance of course. The opportunity to see Dragons dance again drew what seem to be the whole of White Harbor.

Except the Dragons aren’t dancing. Instead they’re putting on a brutal display of power. One that makes it impossible to forget how easy it would be for them to destroy everything people hold dear.

Yet while there’s far more fear than before, wonder remains as well. The sight people are being treated to might be terrible, but it’s terrible in the most magical of ways. Jon knows the tales already being told about these Dragons will grow more cautious after the first time someone is foolish enough to ignore the warnings and attempt to touch Rhaegal, Drogon or Viserion. He knows children will be told to behave or they’ll be eaten by Dragons. Or turned to ash by them.

Children will be told of the magic Dragons bring as well. Of the wonder only they can inspire. They won’t be spoken of as monster. Neither will Daenerys and her people. He’s been to the markets, saw some of Daenerys’ people mingle freely with his own. Saw Missandei play with children while Torgo Nudho watched with warm eyes.

There will be far more trouble before Daenerys will find true acceptance in the North, of that Jon has no doubt. But he believes it will be manageable.

He believes it even more so after the salt has been gathered and Rhaegal, Drogon and Viserion drop off a fortune in front of New Castle. Lord Wyman isn’t the only one by far who looks at the sheer amount of barrels and crates the Dragons bring in a daze.

His people are starting to accept Daenerys and her Dragons. Which means it’s time for Jon to turn his attention to the next issue they face.

It’s time to bring Daenerys to The Wall.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Denial, thy name is Jon.


	21. Chapter 21

It will take time to go to The Wall of course. The fastest way would be to take a single ship, meaning the majority of Daenerys’ people would need to remain behind, and sail to Eastwatch by the Sea. Even that will take at least a week of travel, though. Jon could go by land instead, could pass Winterfell first, but that would lead to over a month’s travel just to reach The Wall. It would be better to go by sea instead.

“Best not to waste any more time,” Davos agrees, assuring Jon he made the right decision.

He still has to ask.

“You don’t think I should bring her to Winterfell first?”

“If it wouldn’t delay your travel as much as it would, yes, it would be better. Though it could be argued that it would be best to bring Lady Daenerys there only after you’ve established a more permanent alliance. Either way, the point is moot. Creating an alliance in the first place takes precedence.”

Worries soothed by Davos, Jon meets up with Daenerys to share his plans with her. He expected the details of his plan to change depending on Daenerys’ own preferences.

He didn’t expect the whole plan to be thrown aside.

“I thought to fly there.”

Jon pauses, his entire planning thrown into disarray.

“How long would that take?” he asks, the most important thing to know.

“How far away is The Wall?”

Jon tells her. Daenerys lets out a pensive hum as she calculates how long it would take to fly there.

“It would take six, perhaps seven hours to reach The Wall.”

Jon stares. Weeks of travel reduced to mere _hours_. Yes, he’s long since realized Dragons can cover ground with unparalleled ease, Rhaegal, Drogon and Viserion leave whenever they so please. But because they always return the same day, because they limit themselves to following Daenerys and her fleet, he hadn’t grasped the full implications traveling by Dragon holds.

No wonder the Targaryens and their Dragons ruled all of Westeros with ease. As soon as they got word of possible rebellions, they could go out and crush all resistance in person. Or burn it, as the case may be.

“I don’t know how long it will take to find the dead of course,” Daenerys continues matter of factly. “But we should be back the day after, two at the very most.”

“Of course,” Jon hears himself say, still struggling with the fact that they can go beyond The Wall and be back in White Harbor _the day after_.

Daenerys grins and it’s enough to pull him out of his daze.

“My offer of flight extends to you alone, though. If you wish to bring along other people, we will have to go by sea.”

The words make him realize something very important.

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Since long before we arrived in White Harbor,” Daenerys replies mischievously. Jon feels a helpless smile grow. Here he was wallowing in disappointment that Daenerys hadn’t asked him to fly with her again, and the entire time she was planning on offering him an entire day worth of wonder.

“I take it this means you’re agreeable to accompanying me on your own?” Daenerys asks, looking like she already knows what the answer will be.

“I am,” Jon confirms. Ignoring the fact that bringing along more people would be superfluous when having the protection of Dragons, he’d have to be a fool to waste weeks of time when there’s no need for it. But Jon won’t deny every part of him wishes to accept her offer for reasons that have nothing to do with duty. “I’d love to fly with you again.”

Not the wisest of confessions, perhaps. The way flying makes him feel could easily lead to him crossing too many boundaries with Daenerys. But Jon won’t lie to himself about his desire to fly again. Neither will he delude himself into thinking he wouldn’t have jumped on another offer of flight even were it not related to his duties.

Daenerys gives him a heady look.

“So would I,” she says in a low voice that sets his blood alight. Jon is once again reminded of how easy it would be to pull her close and find out if Daenerys tastes of the same magic as her Dragons. He forcefully smothers the urge to do just that. Instead he works out the details of their travel. Daenerys is agreeable to departing as soon as possible, and even ignoring his eagerness to fly, Jon has no wish to delay what must be done. They agree to depart tomorrow morning. Daenerys returns to her people to share the news, and Jon does the same.

As expected, the news of how briefly he’ll be gone is met with utter incredulity.

“Well,” Davos says with a disbelieving expression. “That’s certainly useful.”

“It is,” Lord Wyman says, his own disbelief making way for consideration. Jon, understanding what that consideration entails, reminds Wyman that Daenerys offering to bring him along is the exception, not the norm. She won’t agree to carry troops.

“She might agree to carry provisions,” Lord Wyman counters and Jon has no argument against that. Dragons might hate carrying people, but they don’t mind transporting goods. Jon knows Lord Wyman is thinking of Cersei instead of the war against the dead, but the argument is still valid. An army marches on their stomach, and Dragons can ensure they’ll never go hungry. The advantage that offers cannot be underestimated.

Jon isn’t surprised in the slightest Lord Wyman has become much more in favor of a permanent alliance with Daenerys. He still fears her and her Dragons of course, but the speed and ease with which they created a fortune in salt finally made hit home just how enormous the potential benefits of their stay are. Learning Dragons can reach any place in the North in less than a day only further confirms that the aid they can offer far outweigh the risk they pose.

When Jon informs Arya of his plans, he’s prepared for envy over him being allowed to ride a Dragon again.

He isn’t prepared for fear.

“You’re the one who says the dead are more dangerous than any other,” she argues, her stubbornness not quite managing to hide the fear she should never feel. “I should go with you.”

“Daenerys won’t agree to carry you,” he says gently. When Arya opens her mouth to argue further, he resumes talking before she can. “I’ll be fine, Arya. I’ll have Dragons with me. There’s no greater protection possible.”

Jon hopes his words won’t turn out to be a lie. He doesn’t believe it will, not truly, yet at the same time... But Arya doesn’t need to see his own fear at going beyond The Wall. Especially not when that fear is the least strong it’s ever been.

Arya turns conflicted, unable to decide between continuing to argue or accepting the inevitable. Then her expression crumbles and she surges forward to give him a tight hug. Jon embraces her back, hoping to make her feel better.

“Don’t you dare die, Jon,” she whispers with a fear he’d give anything to soothe. “I’ll never forgive you if you do.”

“I won’t die, Arya,” Jon promises, praying his words won’t turn out to be a lie. He pulls back enough so he can meet her gaze, his heart breaking further at seeing her fear instead of merely hearing it. “I’ll come back to you,” he says softly, cupping her cheek and stroking his thumb over her skin. Hoping the gesture will soothe her.

Arya lifts her hand to cover his own, and while her fear isn’t gone, her determination has overpowered it.

“The God of Death comes for us all,” she says, the words so unexpected Jon has no idea how to react to them. Arya continues speaking before he can figure out an appropriate response. “And when Death comes for us, do you know what we say?”

Jon shakes his head in reply, ensuring he doesn’t reveal how much it hurts to hear this. Arya shouldn’t have needed to learn no one is safe from harm.

Arya holds his gaze in a way that tells him whatever she’s about to say next matters to her as nothing else does.

“Not today.”

“Not today,” Jon agrees, knowing Arya needs to hear this from him. He strokes her cheek again. “Not tomorrow, either.”

Arya’s lips twitch with the shadow of a smile. While Jon wishes he could do more to soothe her, he’ll take what he can get.

Arya still leaves to go see Daenerys and demand she take her along. Jon is fairly certain she’s going to fail.

He hopes she’ll fail. None of what he told her was a lie, but it wasn’t the entire truth either.

He doesn’t want to take Arya with him beyond The Wall. Even should she manage to convince Daenerys to take her along, Jon knows he’ll object to it. He’ll refuse to come if Arya is brought along, duty be damned. He knows his refusal will hurt Arya but that won’t stop him from doing it. Arya might be capable of protecting herself, but the idea of her facing the dead is his worst nightmare come to life. Which is why he hopes she’ll fail to convince Daenerys to take her along.

His worry over Arya leaves him a bit distracted, but he nonetheless forces himself to focus on his duties. Daenerys said she’ll provide bedding and provisions, but among other things, he still needs to inform Sansa of where he’s going. Though he should be back by the time her own reply arrives. And realizing he'll be back before then makes the sheer usefulness of traveling by Dragon hit him all over again.

Jon informs Sam of his plans as well. Sam reacts in an unexpected way.

“I need to tell you something.”

Jon waits for Sam to tell him whatever he needs to know, but Sam hesitates instead.

“After you get back.”

Jon gives him a pointed look. If Sam wasn’t going to tell him now, why bring it up?

“I know, I should’ve kept my mouth shut,” Sam says with a grimace, frustrated with his inability to hold his tongue. Then he shakes his head and gives him a determined look. “It’s not important right now. Just worry about getting back in one piece. I’ll tell you after.”

This time Jon is the one who grimaces, the fear he’d been trying to keep under control momentarily breaking free. Daenerys, Arya, Lord Wyman, even Davos. All of them underestimate the danger the dead pose.

Sam doesn’t. He understands even the protection of Dragons offers no guarantee Jon will make it back alive. It lessens the danger greatly, but it doesn’t eliminate it.

“If something happens to me, take care of Arya,” Jon says softly, needing the assurance Arya won’t be left without protection should the worst come to pass. Needing the assurance none of his family will be left without protection. “Take care of Sansa and Bran as well.”

Sam takes hold of his shoulder and gives him a solemn look.

“I will,” he vows, earnest and sincere. The promise soothes the worst of Jon’s worry. Then Sam loses his gravity in favor acceptance. “Though I think your sisters would take care of me instead. Both of them are kind of terrifying.”

Jon feels his lips twitch with humor. He also agrees with Sam’s assessment. Arya has become a great warrior. She might even be better than him. And while Sansa isn’t a warrior, she’s just as dangerous in her own right.

Doesn’t make him any less relieved at the assurance Sam will look after his family should the worst come to pass. He’s even more relieved when Arya returns with the news Daenerys won’t allow her to come along. Or rather, Drogon won’t allow it.

“She asked him to bring me along, but he refused,” Arya says with frustration bordering on true aggravation. Jon does his best to hide his relief. Judging from the annoyed look Arya gives him, he doesn’t succeed. “Rhaegal and Viserion refused to bring me along as well.”

“Dragons really don’t like carrying people,” Jon says, the only thing he can think to say. Telling Arya he’s relieved she won’t be coming along is not what she needs to hear right now.

“That’s a lot less comforting when one of them has agreed to carry you not once but twice.”

Despite her words, Arya does look calmer than before. The reason for this is simple.

Rhaegal and Viserion had a spar in order to determine who would accompany Daenerys and who would remain behind to guard her people. Rhaegal won, but it was a close call.

“It was...”

Arya trails off, unable to put into words what she saw. Her frustration is lost beneath awe.

When she continues speaking, her voice is even softer than before.

“I didn’t know it was possible for that kind of power to exist.”

Jon understands her reaction completely. It’s one thing to see Dragons wrestle in play, another thing entirely to see them perform a genuine spar. Especially one as intense as this one. Jon might not have been there, but he knows both Rhaegal and Viserion were determined to accompany Daenerys. The fight between them must’ve been breathtaking.

“And I’ll be protected by not one but two Dragons,” Jon says in an effort to soothe Arya’s remaining worry. While Daenerys’ safety will always take priority, Jon knows Rhaegal and Drogon will protect him as well. Daenerys would be hurt if any harm came to him, and that’s something they wish to avoid at all cost.

“You’ll also get to fly again,” Arya returns with open envy. Jon feels a giddy smile grow without his consent. Yes, he’s worried about what will happen, but he’s also going to experience the wonder of flight again. Even his fear of what they’ll encounter beyond The Wall isn’t enough to dampen the joy that prospect inspires.

Arya gives him an unimpressed look belied by the smile tugging at her lips. Jon knows she brought up her desire to fly in order to lighten the atmosphere, but knowing she did it on purpose doesn’t mean she didn’t succeed.

He’s glad Arya no longer fears he won’t come back. Part of her still does of course, but seeing Dragons spar has gotten rid of the worst of it.

All in all, Jon is fairly calm the entire day.

This changes when he turns in for the night. All the worry he’d managed to contain during the day breaks free with a vengeance. Not just his fear of what might happen to him and Daenerys, he fears for what will come after even should both of them make it out unharmed.

What if Daenerys refuses to aid them? He doesn’t truly believe that will happen yet suddenly it’s impossible to think of anything but the worst case scenario. What if she refuses to help? They need her. The men they have, the dragonglass. None of it is enough to defeat the dead. Jon has known how hopeless their fight is since the very beginning, but he’d pretended that if he just worked hard enough, if he just gathered enough men and resources, some of them might stand a sliver of a chance at survival.

He can no longer keep pretending. Not after having seen Dragons. Jon knows they’re the only beings capable of standing up to the Night King.

They’re the only chance any of them have at surviving the Great War.

Jon isn’t surprised when he dreams of Hardhome. Despite having expected it, his night terror still manages to be even worse than reality.

Arya and Sansa look at him with blue eyes.

Jon wakes up in a cold sweat long before dawn breaks. Despite knowing it will cause more rumors about him, he can’t stop himself from getting dressed as fast as possible before racing to Arya’s room, barely able to keep himself from running like a madman. The two people who spot him, a servant and a soldier, give him strange looks as expected. Jon can’t find it within himself to care. Not right now.

Arriving at Arya’s room, he all but bangs on her door. He knows Arya is still asleep, knows he’s being irrational, but he needs to see her.

Arya opens the door. Her eyes are sharp and alert.

They’re brown. The relief that hits him is so strong it leaves him lightheaded.

Arya loses her air of danger in favor of the confusion of sleep. She brings up a hand to rub her eyes, part of her believing this is a dream. She’s dressed only in a nightgown.

She’s never looked as much like her old self as she does now.

“Jon? What are you doing here?”

Her confusion makes place for worry and her air of danger returns. Reminding him that while she might look like her old self, she can defend herself as she couldn’t before.

“What’s wrong?” she demands.

“Nothing,” he manages to force through the throat that’s still too tight. The worst of his panic might be gone, but he’s still feeling anxious and off balance.

The result of his worry is that his voice comes out rough and harsh. Not soothing Arya’s worry. Jon clears his throat and tries again.

“Nothing’s wrong, Arya,” he says while looking into her beautiful brown eyes. “I just wanted to see you. I needed to.”

Arya softens.

“Do you want to come in?” she says and Jon feels a whisper of humor at her indecent invitation. They might be siblings, but both of them are grown. Her inviting him into her room at this hour is inappropriate.

Doesn’t stop him from wanting to accept.

“I don’t think that’s appropriate,” he nonetheless points out. He tries to do it with a smile, wishing to reassure Arya, but that turns out to be an impossible task. Even with the worst of his panic gone, smiling is not something he’s capable of right now.

Arya replies with a faint smile, one that’s just as deliberate as what Jon attempted to give her. The playful light her beautiful brown eyes hold is real, though.

“When have I ever done what’s appropriate?”

Jon feels another whisper of humor, a little stronger than before. He can’t argue with that.

Jon decides to throw caution in the wind and accept her invitation. If people start speaking about them as Lannisters, so be it. Right now he needs to be with Arya. Needs to see her brown eyes and assure himself the image still haunting him isn't real.

When he enters, Jon sees that Arya is holding an unsheathed dagger, previously hidden by the door. The sight soothes him further. Arya is capable of defending herself.

He still makes a mental note to get her a dragonglass dagger as soon as possible. If he tells Davos to have one made before he leaves, Arya will have protection against the dead within days.

After Arya gets dressed, they fall into easy conversation. Jon doesn’t add much, content to listen to whatever Arya wishes to speak about, but Arya doesn’t seem to mind how little he contributes.  

By the time dawn arrives, he feels truly calm again. He’s also starting to feel giddy. It’ll take hours before they reach The Wall, and all that time he’s going to be _flying_.

“This is still unfair,” Arya says with a mock glare in response to his delight. Jon shrugs with false modesty. He can’t help it that Drogon refuses to carry Arya but is willing to carry him.

He goes to his room to get dressed for travel. After he’s finished, he folds up his cloak before hesitating. He wasn’t planning on bringing it along, it would only get in the way during battle, but the idea of leaving it here...

He takes it with him into the sitting room, where Arya is waiting for him to finish getting dressed.

“I’d like you to look after this,” he says softly. Arya raises a brow, demanding he elaborate on his random request. “Sansa made it for me," he explains. Arya softens.

“Guess I have no choice then. Sansa hates it when her needlework gets dirtied.”

Jon feels his lips twitch with a smile. It’s true, Sansa hates it when that happens. And it happens to this cloak a lot, courtesy of him wearing it whenever he can. Sansa is going to have her work cut out for her when they meet again.

When Drogon arrives at the agreed upon time and announces his presence with his usual roar, Jon feels ready to go face the dead with Daenerys. He’s also more than ready to fly again. Then he’s distracted by the wholly unexpected sight he’s greeted by.

Daenerys is wearing armor. Not like on Dragonstone Isle, where she put on the bare minimum needed to protect her vital organs. She’s in full leathers, thick enough to protect her arms and legs from the worst impact of a blade, and she has light chain mail protecting her torso further. She also isn’t wearing any necklaces, though she’s still wearing rings. Her hair is still woven through with gold as well, but unlike usual, all of it is braided back. Ensuring it won’t be easy to grab in a fight. The only thing familiar about her appearance are her swords and the boots tipped with golden plates.

The sight leaves Jon feeling strangely off balance. Seeing Daenerys fully clothed is a little like seeing a normal woman go without clothes. Judging from the looks their audience is giving her, they find the sight to be a strange one as well. Odd how fast people get used to her usual outrageous appearance.

Daenerys leaps off Drogon and greets him and Arya. Jon expresses his surprise over seeing her in armor.

“I always wear armor when going into battle,” Daenerys says as though it should be obvious.

“That’s not the impression I got on Dragonstone Isle,” Jon counters, amused. Daenerys grins.

“I wasn’t planning on entering battle there.”

And why ever should she worry about someone attacking her when she isn’t planning to attack them herself.

Jon bids farewell to Lord Wyman, Davos and Sam. When he says farewell to Arya, she gives him another hug that reveals she hasn’t gotten rid of all her fear yet. Jon gently hugs her back, wishing he could do more to soothe her. Then he moves towards Drogon with Daenerys. Rhaegal is flying above, waiting for them to join him.

“Will Viserion be alright on his own?” Jon asks, more because he suspects Daenerys might worry about that than that he himself fears for Viserion’s safety.

“Of course,” she says, revealing she holds as little worry as he does. Then she turns hesitant, surprising him. Before he can react to it, her hesitation makes way for an earnest expression. “I hope you don’t mind him staying here. It’s not that I believe your people will harm mine, it’s just...”

She averts her gaze and places a hand on Drogon in the way she does when wishing to share in his strength. It draws Drogon's full attention.

“The last time my children weren’t there to protect my people, our hearts burned.”

Jon chest tightens painfully. He also does his best to smother the horror attempting to rise. He knew the massacre of their children was a message to Daenerys, but to learn the message was delivered by fire...

The more he learns about what led up to the Burning of Slaver’s Bay, the more he understands why it made Daenerys lose all restraint in the most gruesome of ways.

He understands better why it left her people so on edge. Why they’re so protective of both her and of each other. He already understood the reason before that, saw some of them break down during his voyage with them. He never witnessed it for long of course, her people are not willing to share their pain with outsiders. But witnessing it was unavoidable when traveling in such close quarters.

He saw enough to realize they carry just as much pain as Daenerys herself does. This just reveals the pain goes even deeper than he thought it did.

“Rhaegal could stay behind as well,” he offers, hoping to comfort her. To his relief, it makes Daenerys shake off her grief. She pulls herself together and gives him a faint smile.

“If Rhaegal stays behind, Viserion would follow instead.”

Drogon lets out an agreeing rumble and gently strokes his nose along Daenerys’ arm. Daenerys’ smile turns warm and she strokes his scales with gratitude. Then she meets his gaze and the heavy atmosphere makes way for anticipation.

“Are you ready to fly, Jon?”

He was born ready.

While Daenerys darts up Drogon with the ease of long familiarity, Jon shakes off the last of his worries. Instead he allows himself to be overcome by joy.

He’s going to fly again!

After Daenerys has seated herself on Drogon, the supplies for their journey tied further down his back, Jon climbs up as well. Drogon tilts himself so it’s far more difficult to climb than it was last time, but Jon couldn’t care less about that. The heat and magic beneath his hands, the blood already rushing through his veins.

This is going be more wonderful than anything he’s ever experienced.

Jon seats himself besides Daenerys and places his arms around her waist. Even with both of them being fully armored, holding her like this causes the desire already taken hold of him to gain a carnal tone. Jon takes a last look at Arya, amused to see her watch him with open envy, but then Daenerys looks over her shoulder and Jon can’t focus on anything but the storm of her eyes and the wild grin that makes his heart race even faster.

“Hold on tight, Jon Snow.”

And then Drogon is leaping into the air and pushing upwards with great wing beats and the wind is battering him and his heart is stuck stuck in his throat and he’s exhilarated and giddy and _free_.

Flying is the most wonderful thing in the entire world.

Drogon’s flight stabilizes. Rhaegal enters Jon’s vision, flying overhead, and he looks down at him with consideration. Jon, feeling himself grin like a fool, lets go of Daenerys so he can spread his arms and pretend he has wings himself. Rhaegal becomes amused, while Daenerys looks over her shoulder. Seeing him like this makes her let out a bright laugh before she spreads her own arms. Then, just like last time, she gestures at him to hold on to her. Jon eagerly accepts the invitation.

Drogon’s dive is even more glorious than he remembers.

They don’t fool around for long. Time isn’t easy to keep track of when lost to the wonder of flight, but that much Jon can definitely tell. Instead Drogon soon sets a steady course to The Wall.

Flying like this is just as wonderful as dancing through the sky is. Last time they were over the ocean with no land in sight. Now Jon is seeing his home like he’s never never before. Snow covered fields are spread out as far as the eye can see, and the White Knife river is rushing to his left, both smaller and larger than he’s ever known it to be, the water disappearing in the distant horizon. They pass over isolated houses and small villages, forests and hills, valleys and outcroppings. It’s a landscape Jon has known his entire life, yet seeing it like this makes it feel brand new.

It makes him love flying even more.

Daenerys loves flying like this as well. Her wild energy makes way for a peace only her Dragons can inspire. She looks like she could spend the rest of her life in the air and be perfectly content. Jon understands completely. He feels like he could remain like this to the end of his days and never want for anything else either.

Sometime later, Jon is surprised when Drogon starts preparing to land, Rhaegal doing the same. They haven’t reached The Wall yet. Jon decides to wait until Drogon has landed to ask Daenerys why they landed. Except then he forgets to do that because that they’re no longer flying he’s suddenly acutely aware of how near she is, of the way her body is plastered against his and his arms around her waist and he swears he can feel her heat even with all the layers between them. Daenerys letting out a sound of longing only makes it even harder to think and she’s lifting a hand like she’s about to take hold of him and kiss him.

Drogon lets out an an impatient roar, causing Jon to regain some of his wits. He realizes Drogon has turned his head and is giving him a fierce glare. Then Jon is distracted by Daenerys taking a firm hold of his arms and making him release his grip on her. When she leaps off Drogon, Jon realizes just how close he came to giving in to his desire for her. That would be bad. He can’t remember why it would be bad, but he knows it would be.

Drogon lets out an aggravated sound and tilts sideways sharply. Jon tries to take hold of the moving spikes on instinct, but Drogon shakes himself before he can manage to get a decent grip. The result is Jon falling off with a shout.

He’s grateful Drogon decided to land in a thick layer of snow. His fall would’ve been a lot worse otherwise.

Rhaegal, who landed first, lets out a sound of amusement. Jon decides to keep lying down the snow a little longer, hoping the cold will cool down his blood enough to start thinking clearly again. His position allows him to see Rhaegal come to stand besides Drogon, before Rhaegal lays a wing over the supplies bound to Drogon’s back and unleashes a wave of fire over Drogon’s back. Drogon lets out a rumble of overwhelming relief, some of his tension fading. Is Rhaegal cleansing the spot Jon was sitting on? That’s a little offensive.

Jon’s mind clears enough for him to realize that laying down the snow is not good for his health. When he gets to his feet, he sees Daenerys stomp through the snow nearby, restless and agitated. Seeing her pace around in armor is strange indeed.

It makes him want to take her armor off piece by piece. Makes him want to uncover the beauty he knows is there and caress her as she deserves.

When Daenerys meets his gaze, she gives him a look as heady as it is frustrated.

“I may not have thought this through,” she says. Jon snorts before he can help, a wry smile growing.

“I did and I still decided to fly with you again.”

Daenerys gains a reluctant smile, finding the humor in their situation as well. It’s ridiculous how drunk on lust flying makes them both.

“Do you want something to eat?” she asks, and while Jon isn’t truly hungry, he answers in the affirmative, more to give her something to do than anything else. Daenerys darts up Drogon even faster than she usually does, but before she can take out provisions, Drogon moves his head over his back and roars at her with a clear demand for attention. Daenerys softens and agrees to his demand him without hesitation, petting him and cooing to him in Valerian. From what Jon can make out, she’s expressing her gratitude to Drogon for carrying him. Drogon loses the remainder of his tension, mollified by Daenerys’ care. Caring for Drogon makes Daenerys calm down as well. Jon himself remains frustrated, but being thrown off Drogon did help get rid of the worst of it.

He still starts pacing. In part to get rid of his remaining frustration, and in part because he could use the movement after flying for so long. Judging from the position of the sun, he was in the air for an hour or three, and Jon is definitely feeling that. Even when flying at a steady pace, his thighs got quite the workout.

Rhaegal settles himself nearby and watching him move around with amusement. Jon gives him an unimpressed look. Rhaegal being entertained by his frustration is not what he needs right now.

Rhaegal replies by blowing hot air over him, turning the snow around him into slush. Even more entertained than before. Rhaegal can be such a brat. The hot air is nice, though. Letting the snow soak through was not one of Jon’s brighter ideas.

“Any chance of you doing that again?” he asks. Rhaegal obligingly keeps warming him, and Jon is dry again in no time at all. He also feels more calm than before. Still a little frustrated, but it’s manageable now.

Daenerys finishes indulging Drogon, takes out some provisions, and leaps off him. When offering Jon the provisions, she keeps a noticeable distance, something Jon is grateful for. He’s back in control, but the urge to kiss her is still a lot stronger than usual. Having her in full armor is only making it worse. He wants to take off every single piece, and he wants to do it slowly. Wants to take his time and explore every part of her body.

Jon has never resented his crown as he does right now.

After both of them move around a little more, they take off again and all of Jon’s frustration falls away. It’s impossible to anything but overjoyed when flying.

This time they keep flying until The Wall appears. It seems startlingly small at first, but that illusion is soon shattered. As they near, even Rhaegal and Drogon become surprised by how enormous it is. Daenerys herself is as well, for she looks over her shoulder with a delighted smile and eyes filled with wonder. The same expression she had when seeing the Sanctuary, an absent part of him realizes, but most of him is struggling not to kiss her. Fortunately, Daenerys soon returns her gaze to The Wall. Jon is fairly certain he would’ve given in to the urge had she kept looking at him like that. Which would be bad, though it’s once again impossible to recall why that would be.

They land down The Wall for another break. This time Jon gets off Drogon fast enough to keep himself from being thrown off again. He and Daenerys are as frustrated as before, but Daenerys deals with that by petting Drogon and cooing to him, to Drogon’s pleasure. Rhaegal cleanses Drogon’s back again as well.

Jon distracts himself from his own frustration by pacing along the edge of The Wall, the ice slippery enough that it takes a fair amount of concentration to keep himself from losing his balance. He’s far away enough from the edge that he shouldn’t fall off even should he lose his balance of course, but the knowledge of how close he is to the abyss is another way to regain control over himself.

It reminds him of when he climbed The Wall with Ygritte. Yet while that memory helps him shake off the haze of desire as nothing else could, it also inspires a pain Jon has no wish to deal with. So he stops moving and focuses on Rhaegal, who’s now clawing at the top of The Wall with great curiosity. When Rhaegal lifts off and starts flying alongside The Wall, Jon hesitates. He knows Rhaegal would protect him in battle, but would he protect him when falling?

Only one way to find out. Jon moves closer to the edge, careful to ensure his footing is solid.

“Would you catch me if I fall?” he asks Rhaegal. Rhaegal, without halting his inspection of The Wall, roars an affirmative. Jon feels himself relax. He didn’t use to fear falling down The Wall when he was younger, but that was before he came a mere breath from experiencing that endless drop himself. Now that he knows Rhaegal will catch him, however, he can allow himself to enjoy both the spectacular view gazing down The Wall treats him to, as well as enjoy the sight of Rhaegal inspecting The Wall with endearing fascination.

Daenerys comes to stand besides him, though she keeps a fair distance between them. Jon gives her a faint smile, wry humor at the situation rising once more. Daenerys replies with a smile of her own and a tilt of her head, acknowledging how ridiculous this whole thing is as well.

It wouldn’t take much effort for him to close the distance between them. Wouldn’t take much effort to find out what she tastes like.

It wouldn’t take much effort to kiss her as he once kissed Ygritte.

Jon refocuses on Rhaegal. He wonders what The Wall looks like to Rhaegal, who is fire given life.

The Wall is winter given shape. Even with all the layers Jon is wearing, the cold of The Wall bites into him as nothing else does.

All those thoughts fly out of his mind when Rhaegal breathes fire at The Wall.

“Stop!”

The yell escapes him without thought and he’s absently aware that he’s moving forward, that Daenerys is closing the distance between and grabbing his arm to keep him from falling but all he can focus on is the steam rising from The Wall and the ice falling down, great pieces broken off by the force of Rhaegal’s blast and Rhaegal is no longer breathing fire but Jon is horrified to see actual _water_ drip down The Wall. It’s superficial and already freezing again as he watches, thank every god there is, but just the fact Rhaegal managed to make part of The Wall melt is terrifying beyond belief.

“ _Never_ do that again,” he orders harshly, holding Rhaegal’s gaze to impress the gravity of his command. Drogon lets out an offended roar Jon couldn’t care less about. All his attention is on Rhaegal, now looking at him with confusion and a little offense of his own. Jon turns his gaze towards Daenerys, keeping Rhaegal within the corner vision to ensure he won’t breathe fire at The Wall again without warning.

Daenerys is watching him with wide eyes, not having expected his reaction in the slightest. She lets go off his arm, and for once the fact that she was touching him doesn’t matter in any way.

“If you can’t give me your word none of your Dragons will ever do this again, our alliance is off,” he snaps, giving her a glare that shows just how serious he is about this.

Daenerys becomes even more surprised. Completely oblivious to the horror of what just happened.

“I thought you desired an alliance above all else,” she says.

“I desire an alliance against the dead,” he bites out, keeping Rhaegal within his vision as he flies up The Wall and lands behind Daenerys. Drogon is moving over as well, not pleased in the slightest with the way Jon is acting. As long as he doesn’t breathe fire at The Wall, Jon couldn’t care less about what Drogon thinks of him. “If your Dragons breach The Wall, you’re on their side. You’ll be my enemy and I _will_ go to war with you.”

Drogon roars a threat and glares at him with true anger. Jon lifts his gaze so he can glare back at him and Rhaegal both.

“All of you.”

Drogon looks down at him with arrogant contempt. Rhaegal looks intrigued. Not comforting.

“You think you’re capable of taking on my children?” Daenerys asks, her surprise having made way for cool calculation. There’s a brutal edge to the set of her jaw, but Jon ignores the rising threat of violence. Either she’ll agree to this, or she won’t and he’s taking them back to White Harbor right this instant.

“It doesn’t matter whether I’m capable. I’d fight them.” He doesn’t have any hope of succeeding, but he’ll fight them to his dying breath nonetheless. And while he can’t take on all three, if the circumstances are favorable and luck is on his side the entire time, he might be able to take out one of them. Stabbing Longclaw through an eye and into their heads will kill them as surely as it would kill anyone else.

To his surprise, Daenerys loses her air of danger in favor of a warm smile.

“You simply keep on impressing me, Jon.”

That is not the reacting he was expecting. Anger, offense, a dismissal of his words. All those he wouldn’t have been surprised by.

He is surprised by the respect she shows.

Drogon lets out a long suffering rumble, radiating annoyance. Rhaegal still looks intrigued, but he also lets out a sound of acknowledgement. It makes Jon loose some of his tension.

“Not the reaction I was expecting,” he tells Daenerys honestly, still keeping a watchful eye on her Dragons to ensure neither attack The Wall again.

“Did you think I would be angry?” Daenerys returns with amusement. When Jon nods, her smile turns fond. “Not many are willing to stand up for what they believe in when faced with my children. Even less are willing to threaten them like this. I admire those who don’t allow fear to affect their convictions.”

Because Daenerys herself is willing to fight to the death for what she believes in. She respects those who are willing to do the same. It wouldn’t stop her from killing her opponents without hesitation, but she’d respect them while doing so.

She also believes he doesn’t stand the slightest chance of victory against her children. Jon doesn’t entirely agree with her conviction, but he’ll admit Dragons are near invincible.

Near doesn't mean absolute.

Even with the worst of his tension gone, Jon isn’t satisfied until both Rhaegal and Drogon have confirmed they won’t ever attack The Wall. Drogon agrees only after Daenerys asks him to, and he does it with a lot of annoyance and a fierce glare, making clear he’s only agreeing for Daenerys’ sake. Rhaegal, on the other hand, agrees to his demand without Daenerys needing to ask. It makes Daenerys look at Rhaegal with surprise, before she gives him a considering look.

“I believe interesting times await you, Jon.”

For some reason he doesn’t believe she’s referring to the Great War. But Jon has more important matters on his mind. Namely, demanding Daenerys ensure Viserion will never attack The Wall either.

“I don’t foresee any problems with that,” she says and it’s enough to make the last of his tension fade.

They prepare to continue their journey. This time, despite the prospect of flight, Jon feels worry take hold of him. Going beyond The Wall will do that. Daenerys, Rhaegal and Drogon are carefree as ever of course, and while for once it grates on his nerves in the worst of ways, Jon forces himself to hold his tongue. They’ll change their minds after seeing the dead.

They have to.

Drogon lifts off, and even with the joy flying inspires, Jon feels a sense of doom threaten to take over. He smothers it as best he can. Rhaegal and Drogon are enormous, fire breathing and naturally armored forces of pure magic. That’s not even mentioning their ability to flee to the sky. Even at worst, the four of them will be able to escape the dead with their lives intact.

So why can’t he stop himself from believing none of them will make it back alive?


	22. Chapter 22

It takes a while before they find the dead. Over half an hour of flying. Ridiculously little time from an objective point of view, but right now every moment that passes feels like an eternity.

When they finally do spot the dead, a group of seven wights with no White Walkers in sight, the calm of battle descends. There’s a strange tranquility to knowing you’re about to fight for your life. Not a feeling of peace, this is the furthest thing possible from that. Yet it’s oddly similar at the same time.

Except Jon has forgotten to take into account he’s going into battle with Dragons. Drogon dives down, the usual thrill it inspires at odds with Jon’s battle serenity, before Drogon crushes two wights by landing on top of them and burns two more to a crisp and oh, feeling the heat beneath him flare, feeling the raw power as Drogon unleashes his fire is more glorious than anything Jon has ever experienced. Even diving doesn’t compare to it.

Rhaegal takes care of the remaining three with fire of his own. Once again, Jon is hit by how desperately they need these Dragons on their side.

He’s also exasperated. Destroying all the wights defeats the entire purpose of finding them in the first place.

Except then Rhaegal’s fire cuts off and Jon hears unnatural shrieking coming from beneath Drogon. The two wights Drogon landed on must still be intact.

Drogon makes a sharp move that almost dislodges Jon, making him tighten his grip on Daenerys on instinct while he hears scales scrape over the ground. Daenerys keeps her balance with the ease of long familiarity, sparing him a quick glance over her shoulder but no more. One of the shrieks cuts off, leaving but one wight screaming as only the dead can.

He and Daenerys get off Drogon, and for once Jon has no desire to kiss her. Being in the presence of the dead will do that.

As Jon unsheathes Longclaw, he sees that one of the wights Drogon landed on is nothing but a smear on the ground, bone fragments, slivers of meat and ruined cloth all that remain. Jon adds _being ground to a paste_ to the ways wights can be killed.

The other wight, one that was turned a long time ago, is intact and trapped beneath Drogon’s claws. Rhaegal moves over to Drogon and cleanses his back with fire again, but Jon is more focused on the wight Drogon has trapped. It used to be a man, once.

It no longer is.

He’s relieved his drawing of Longclaw makes Daenerys unsheathe her own blades. She’s also looking at the wight with shock and her body is wired to attack. Good.

The wight is letting out the hair raising sounds they always make when faced with the living. Hands more bone than flesh claw at the talons holding it captive, its teeth snapping as it tries to bite Drogon. Drogon made sure it’s position doesn’t allow for that, though. The fingers raking over Drogon’s talons cause no damage either.

Daenerys moves closer and Jon follows. Their approach makes unnatural eyes lock onto them and Jon tightens his grip on Longclaw on instinct, every part of him coiled tight. The tension is even worse than usual for the flight he just experienced.

To his relief, Daenerys looks incredibly disturbed by the way the wight has focused on them. They halt a healthy distance away, but that doesn’t stop the wight from trying to attack them. Rotten hands claw at the ice beneath it with a mindless need to reach them, its face twisted in a feral snarl. Too bright eyes remain locked on them in the most inhuman of ways. Jon knows it’s rather ridiculous of him, but the lack of blinking is one of the things about the dead that disturbs him the most.

Rhaegal moves to stand in front of Drogon and looks down at the wight with disgust and morbid fascination. Drogon looks down at the wight as well, but unlike Rhaegal, he feels no fascination. Only contempt and revulsion.

The wight aims too bright eyes at Rhaegal and stops moving, making Jon look around for a White Walker. The dead don’t act like this unless a White Walker is leading them.

He sees no White Walkers. They might be hiding among the trees, but given how far away those are, Jon forces himself to refocus on the wight. He’ll keep an eye out for White Walkers, but he feels confident enough one won’t be able to sneak up on them. It might be that there are no White Walkers at all. Perhaps the wight is reacting like this because Rhaegal is a Dragon. The explanation feels hollow, though. If that were the case, why didn’t the wight focus on Drogon in the same way?

Rhaegal lowers his head and moves it towards the wight. Which continues to watch Rhaegal with a stillness that makes Jon’s tension so much worse. The calm of battle is gone, courtesy of there being no true battle possible anymore, but that just means his worry has room to take hold of him with a vengeance.

Jon is about to tell Rhaegal to keep his distance, but Daenerys speaks up before he can. Valeryan rolls off her tongue, telling Rhaegal to be careful. Rhaegal replies with an exasperated look, but he does slow down his approach.

Rhaegal halts right before Jon would have spoken up himself. Rhaegal is far too close for comfort to the wight, but he remains out of its reach. Jon knows that if he moved even the slightest bit closer, the false calm would break and the wight would attempt to attack him.

Rhaegal flicks his tongue out in the way Dragons do when investigating a scent. Jon is not comforted by how the gesture doesn’t make the illusion of calm break. Instead the wight keeps watching Rhaegal without moving. Jon looks around for White Walkers again, but he still fails to find one.

Rhaegal lets out a sound of utter revulsion and pulls away from the wight, his fascination have made way for contempt. Jon feels some of his tension leave him, and he sees Daenerys relax a little as well.

Unnatural eyes return to him and Daenerys. The wight lets out another inhuman shriek and resumes its futile struggle to reach them.

“That is not a man,” Daenerys says softly, never looking away from the corpse given a mockery of life.

“No, it isn’t,” Jon agrees just as softly. “Not anymore.”

Daenerys gives him a quick glance but then she returns to watching the wight. Her eyes flicker over the bone gaping through rotten flesh, the torn throat that doesn’t stop it from making those unnatural sounds. Jon is relieved to see true horror rise as she examines the mockery of a man. Then her horror makes way for determination.

“I will fight it,” she declares and Jon almost doesn’t catch the reflex to forbid her from doing so. It’s one wight. It doesn’t pose a true threat. Not when both of them are armed with Valerian steel and her Dragons are present. And Daenerys needs to fight it.

She needs to understand the full danger the Army of the Dead pose.

“Don’t fight it with your blades,” he forces himself to say. Daenerys raises a brow at him in a demand for elaboration. “Valerian steel is one of three things that can kill them,” he reminds her. “If you truly wish to understand the danger the dead pose, fight it without your blades.”

Daenerys hums and puts her blades away. While Jon was the one who told her to do it, he still tightens his grip on Longclaw and struggles to contain the fear attempting to take over.

“Have Rhaegal and Drogon be ready to incinerate it,” he says in a burst of inspiration. Daenerys isn’t affected by fire. Should something go wrong, Rhaegal and Drogon can incinerate the wight without harming her.

Drogon lets out a warning roar and glares at him, not amused in the slightest to be ordered by him even indirectly. Rhaegal gives Drogon an unimpressed look and lets out a pointed hiss, making annoyance join Drogon’s aggravation. When Drogon glances at Daenerys, he turns resigned and lets out a sullen rumble of agreement.

Rhaegal backs away from Drogon, positioning himself so there’s space for Daenerys to fight between them.

“Be careful,” Jon has to say to Daenerys, impossible not to with the fear threatening to take over. Daenerys might need to understand the danger the dead pose, but the idea of her fighting them makes every part of him rebel.

“I’m always careful.”

The lie is so blatant Jon feels his lips twitch with the shadow of a smile, a flicker of humor rising without his consent.

“Here I thought you pride yourself on your honesty.”

“And I am being honest,” Daenerys returns with a faint smile, feeling some amusement of her own. “By my own standards, I’m always careful.”

Daenerys pauses briefly before she amends her statement.

“Aside from when I’m angry. Then I become careless to a dangerous degree.”

Given how careless she is about her safety in general, her saying she becomes even more so when angry is not comforting.

Daenerys returns her gaze to the wight and her humor fades.

“You should move away, Jon.”

His own tension back in full force, Jon does as he’s told, moving away far away enough that he won’t get in Rhaegal and Drogon’s way. Daenerys goes to stand between Rhaegal and Drogon, ensuring both of them can destroy the wight in an instant. She takes on a battle stance, shifting her footing to a more solid position and holding her hands so she's both ready to defend herself from the wight, or go on the offensive instead. Her footing reveals she’s planning to focus on dodging instead of meeting it head on, though. Jon is relieved.

Unnatural eyes follow Daenerys’ movements, the wight still clawing at the ground with a mindless need to reach her. It would’ve focused on him had he closer than Daenerys, but that’s another reason Jon put as much distance between them as he did.

Daenerys orders Drogon to let go of the wight. Drogon obeys.

The wight scrambles to its feet and races towards Daenerys as fast it can, all the while shrieking in the way Jon regularly has night terrors about. But it doesn’t draw the blade hanging at its side, and that’s a clear sign there’s no White Walker nearby.

Doesn’t stop Jon from feeling like he might jump out of his skin as the wight closes in on Daenerys. Daenerys shows no fear or panic as she watches it approach, only calculation and determination.

Right before the wight would’ve smashed into Daenerys, she steps to the side and trips it up, its reckless charge meaning it takes no effort to turn its momentum against it. As it falls down face first, Daenerys wastes no time in pushing her knee down its back while one of her hands takes hold of its shoulder for balance. Her other hand grabs the wight by the back of its head, her fingers digging into the rotting flesh to ensure she has a firm hold, before she lifts its head and smashes it down the frozen ground face first as hard she can, the air filled with the sickening crack of bone breaking. She doesn’t even pause to look at the results of her attack before she does it again. Were this a living opponent, the fight would already be over.

Her opponent isn’t living.

The wight blindly grabs her arm and pulls her off with the strength that comes from feeling no pain. Jon has just enough time to see Daenerys’ eyes widen with surprise and hear her startled yell before she’s hitting the ground and the wight is scrambling on top of her and Jon is about to yell at Rhaegal and Drogon to fire – Daenerys catches the hands about to claw off her face and kicks off the wight in an impressive display of the power her legs hold. Part of Jon is taking note of her battle style, its strengths and weaknesses, but most of him is struggling to keep from joining the battle himself. Not only would that defeat the entire point of Daenerys fighting the dead, it would prevent Rhaegal and Drogon from stepping in should it be needed. Jon spares a quick glance at Rhaegal and sees that he holds no concern. He’s following the fight intently and is ready to interfere if necessary, but he doesn’t feel any worry for Daenerys’ safety. Same for Drogon.

Daenerys gets to her feet and makes an aborted movement to unsheathe her blades, though she catches the reflex in time. Her eyes remain locked onto the wight.

The wight looks back at Daenerys with a ruined face, the remnants of its nose now crushed in completely, several of its teeth broken, and a large hole in its forehead that has brain matter dripping out of it.

Its eyes shine just as brightly as before.

As the wight charges towards her again, Daenerys trips it up for a second time. This time she doesn’t attempt to smash in its face. Instead she kicks its head like a child would kick a ball in the heat of a game. Except instead of being a child, Daenerys is a grown woman with exceptionally strong legs and heavily armored boots.

The wight’s head snaps to the side with a sickening crack, the angle revealing Daenerys broke its neck. Its skull is caved in as well.

Doesn’t stop it from lunging at Daenerys. It take everything Jon has not to order Rhaegal and Drogon to fire when Daenerys goes down again. Fortunately, she’s prepared this time, and she uses the momentum of her fall to throw off the wight before quickly getting back to her feet.

Daenerys actually looks _frustrated_. Not scared, not horrified, not even disturbed like she was before. Just frustrated that her attacks are having no effect.

When the wight charges at her again, Daenerys trips it up again. Against a living opponent, she wouldn’t be able to keep pulling the same trick, but the dead aren’t capable of learning from their mistakes. Not without a White Walker leading them.

Before the wight can get back to its feet, Daenerys lifts its head as much as its broken neck allows and jams two fingers deep into its eyes, something Jon did not see coming at all. The dead’s glowing eyes are so unsettling people try to avoid them at all costs. That includes avoiding attacking them.

Her attack makes the wight scream even louder than usual and its hand claw over Daenerys’ arm and hand. Jon is so glad she’s wearing leathers. The wight draws blood from her hand, but the wound is superficial and draws no more than a fleeting grimace from Daenerys.

Daenerys pulls her fingers out of its eye sockets and backs away. The wight scrambles to its feet, old blood and other fluids dripping from its ruined eyes.

Its eye sockets still hold flickers of blue light.

This time the dead doesn’t charge at Daenerys. Instead it stumbles around, turning its head in every direction as it tries to find her. Or rather, turning its body in every direction. Daenerys breaking its neck means it’s lost most of its ability to move its head.

Jon makes a mental note to spread the word to destroy the dead’s eyes if possible. It’s a great tactic to lessen the danger they pose in a fight.

The wight’s hearing still functions. When Daenerys darts forward, her eyes locked on the wight’s blade, it whips around to face her, its hands lashing out blindly. Daenerys stops before she can be hit, her frustration back in full force. Her eyes flicker to the wight’s sword again, before the wight charges at her and she quickly steps out of the way – and slips on a patch of ice, unable to recover her balance in time to keep the wight from grabbing her arm and pulling her towards it, its teeth about to bite her face off and Jon is already yelling at Rhaegal and Drogon to fire when Daenerys does something that makes his mind screech to a halt.

She bites the dead first. Before its teeth can tear off her cheek, she clamps her own down its jaw. Preventing it from being able to bite her, an absent part of Jon realizes, but most of him can only stare with stunned incredulity at the sight he never expected to witness.

Daenerys, her teeth still clamped down the wight’s jaw, gains an expression of utter horror. Then she and the wight are consumed by fire, Jon already moving forward before he remembers the magic she holds. Drogon is the one breathing fire, and he still seems unconcerned. He, in fact, seems compassionate.

Rhaegal, on the other hand, looks like he just saw the most hilarious thing ever.

When Drogon’s fire cuts off, Jon sees Daenerys standing on her feet, her leathers on fire, her expression watchful and without pain, and her eyes locked on the burning remains of the wight. Then her expression twists with horror and she drops to her knees, scooping up the water created by Drogon’s fire and rinsing her mouth as fast she can. Jon moves towards her without thought.

“Are you alright?” he hears himself demand. A foolish question, he knows she’s alright. Except she clearly isn’t because she bit a wight. Who in their right mind even thinks of doing that?

“That is–” Daenerys gags before she can finish and rinses her mouth again, looking like she’s one moment away from throwing up. Which, of course she looks like that, she bit a wight.

“You bit it.” She bit a wight. A rotten corpse given a mockery of life and she bit it.

“I’m _never_ doing that again,” Daenerys declares like it makes sense for her to bite a wight in the first place.

Rhaegal lets out a teasing rumble, snapping Jon out of his shock. He now consciously processes that both Rhaegal and Drogon have moved closer to Daenerys. Rhaegal continues to look like he saw the greatest show ever, and while Drogon remains compassionate, there’s some amusement present as well.

Daenerys snaps something at Rhaegal in rapid Valeryan, the words too fast for Jon to catch. Whatever she says entertains Rhaegal even further, and he lets out another teasing rumble while gently nudging Daenerys with his nose.

Daenerys actually pushes him way, the greatest sign possible of how annoyed she is by his teasing.

Drogon lets out a comforting rumble and releases a flicker of fire, making Jon step away on reflex.

The fire washes over Daenerys without effect. Her leathers are set alight again, though. The freezing winds had almost extinguished the flames, but now they’re back in full force. The water that had begun freezing again is turned back into liquid as well. Daenerys wastes no time in scooping up another handful and rinsing her mouth again.

It’s such an otherworldly picture she presents. Here Daenerys is, in the lands of Eternal Winter, and she’s seated in a puddle of water with her clothes on fire. The Dragons flanking her only make the image even more fantastical.

Jon feels a helpless smile grow, unable to believe how things went down.

“This isn’t what I was expecting to happen.” He expected danger, tension, fear, and a complete lack of humor.

He wasn’t expecting Daenerys to _bite_ a wight.

“Neither did I,” Daenerys says and scoops up more of the water that’s already starting to freeze again. “Never in my life have I tasted something as revolting as this.”

Jon laughs, couldn’t contain it even if he wanted to. Never did he expect those words to be spoken in relation to the dead.

Daenerys looks at him with wide eyes, the water in her hands forgotten. She looks as though she’s witnessing a beauty she didn’t know was possible. Normally her reaction would’ve made Jon feel self-conscious, but right now there’s no room for anything but humor.

Daenerys bit a wight!

“I will join you in the war against the dead,” Daenerys says and it scatters his thoughts all over again. His shock makes Daenerys shake off her wonder, and she gives him a solemn look. “My blades, my children, all those who choose to follow me. I will aid you in this fight as best I can, Jon Snow, King in the North.”

It’s everything he longed to hear. He simply can’t believe he’s hearing it.

“You will?” No one has ever agreed to aid him like this. Even the Free Folk, who understand the threat the dead pose better than anyone else, refused to aid him this unconditionally. Jon knows he’s being ridiculous but he keeps expecting Daenerys to take back her words.

She doesn’t.

“I will. You were right, the dead pose a danger to all.” She looks at the smoldering remains of the dead and her lips curl back in a snarl. “I will not allow these things to spread.”

It’s even more than he dared to hope for. Daenerys isn’t agreeing to aid them out of personal feelings for him. At least, not completely. Instead she’s agreeing because she believes the dead cannot be allowed to run free. Because she wishes to protect people from them.

And suddenly Jon is smiling like a fool, is overcome by joy and relief and a gratitude no words can ever express.

He still tries.

“Thank you, Daenerys. I...”

He shakes his head, wishing he could find the words to show what this means to him.

“Thank you,” he repeats in a rough voice, holding Daenerys’ gaze in an effort to impress the depth of his feelings at least a little.

Judging from the wonder Daenerys is showing once more, him smiling like a fool might be enough to convey the message he can’t put into words.

Because for the first time since Hardhome, Jon believes, truly believes, they have a chance at emerging victoriously from the Great War.

For the first time he truly believes his family will make it through the Long Night.

* * *

 

The high of Daenerys agreeing to aid them doesn’t fade. Jon feels like he’s flying just from thinking of her Dragons being on their side. Daenerys doesn’t ask Rhaegal and Drogon whether they’d be willing to follow her into the Great War, but the fact neither of them spoke up when she declared her intentions reveals they’re planning on joining her. Jon knows Viserion will agree as well, but just having this confirmation from Rhaegal and Drogon, just knowing two Dragons have joined their side is enough to make him feel lighter than he ever has.

Daenerys’ own skills make him feel lighter as well. Not as much as her Dragons do by far, but her fight against the wight revealed just how lethal she is. In short order, she crushed its face, broke its neck, and ruined its eyes. And she did it all without a single hesitation.

She did it with an ease that only comes from long experience. This is how Daenerys fights. Ruthlessly and without any reluctance to maim in the most horrific of ways. Yet Jon feels no discomfort at the knowledge that she would jab her fingers into a man’s eyes with the same ease she did against the dead. Daenerys is brutal but she isn’t cruel. She showed no pleasure when maiming the wight, only a single minded focus to destroy it.

She’s no Ramsay Bolton. It’s a silly thing to focus on, even more so in light of her lending them the support of her Dragons, but the knowledge causes a tension to fade Jon hadn’t even noticed was there. Daenerys isn’t cruel.

She’s wonderful.

It takes everything Jon has not to kiss her. The only reason he succeeds is because he knows she’d taste of rotten corpse. Which he points out to her when she gives him a heady look.

Daenerys gains a reluctant smile.

“The worst of the taste is gone,” she says, but the brief grimace she gains reveals that the remnant is still revolting beyond words. She rinsed her mouth several times more, ate provisions to cover the taste, and then she rinsed her mouth some more.

All her efforts to get rid of the taste were in vain.

“It isn’t gone completely,” Jon counters with a grin. Daenerys gains a deeper grimace than before, but her eyes remain bright with humor.

“I’m having a meal existing entirely out of spices when we return. I feel like cutting off my own tongue just to get rid of the taste.”

“Even though the worst of it is gone?” he teases, turning her own words back against her.

“The remnant is still more revolting than I can put into words.”

Jon chuckles. Daenerys grins.

They settle themselves on Drogon, and even being this near to Daenerys is not enough to make him lose control over the urge to kiss her. He has no desire to find out what wights taste like.

Even with his high spirits, Jon does feel a flicker of worry over Daenerys catching some kind of disease from biting the wight, but she reminds him that she doesn’t fall ill. This would not be the first time she came into contact with something that should make her sick but doesn’t. Jon takes her at her word, impossible to keep worrying when she agreed to join the fight against the dead.

They lift off and start the journey back to White Harbor. They’ll make camp after they’re back in the North, flying all the way back would make them arrive long after night has fallen. Neither of them are in the mood to rush.

Unlike when they crossed The Wall, Jon can now enjoy their flight to the fullest.

Or rather, he can until they encounter a sight that makes his blood freeze.

The Army of the Dead. Thousands upon thousands of dead are gathered together, only the view from the sky allowing Jon to see that there’s an end to them. They look no bigger than ants from this height, but in some ways that makes the image even worse. Countless blue lights are locked onto them, a mockery of a starlit night. The color shouldn’t be visible at this distance, yet somehow it is. Somehow the blue light is just as vivid as when seen up close.

None of the dead are moving. Even when Drogon and Rhaegal halt above them and hover in place, there’s not a single movement in the mass beneath them. The dead just keep watching them. They keep waiting. For what, Jon doesn’t know, but he has no intention of finding out. Not when this area was empty no more than an hour ago when he and Daenerys passed over it before.

So why are the dead here now?

The only answer Jon can think of makes the sight beneath them even more terrifying.

This is a trap.

Daenerys leans her head against his shoulder so she’ll be able to make herself heard over the wind.

“They weren’t here before.”

“It’s a trap,” Jon returns without looking away from the dead, every part of him wound tight. He knows this is a trap, but what do the dead hope to accomplish with this? It’s a trap for him and Daenerys, that much is more than clear. But why?

No, it isn’t a trap for them. It’s a trap for Rhaegal and Drogon.

He’s just about to share his revelation with Daenerys when she gains a slow smile, her eyes bright with anticipation. It makes dread rise with a vengeance, but Daenerys speaks before Jon can say anything.

“Let’s spring it.”

Jon doesn’t get a chance to react before Drogon is diving down with a roar of challenge, hears Rhaegal join in with a roar of joy and his stomach is stuck in his throat and the thrill of diving is making everything worse, exhilaration battling with fear and disbelief because there’s no way they can win this and how could Daenerys be so foolish – Drogon unleashes endless fire, nothing compared to the brief blast he unleashed before. Jon feels it happen, feels the heat beneath him flare with an intensity that should burn but it doesn’t. It’s overpowering and indescribable and pure Magic.

It hits the dead full on. Fire obliterates everything beneath them, the blast so strong it tears apart the very ground itself and now the dead are moving, now they’re shrieking and leaping into the air. Trying to reach them.

They can’t reach them. Drogon is too high for anything but arrows to reach him.

The dead don’t have archers.

Jon watches with disbelief as the dead are obliterated like they’re nothing but kindle. He knew Dragons can cause destruction on an untold scale, knew that the power they hold is incomparable to any other, but it’s one thing to know, something else entirely to see. Dozens upon dozens of dead are wiped out in an instant. Then it turns into hundreds, Drogon barely pausing for breath before he’s unleashing endless fire once more.

Rhaegal passes the air in front of them, looking like he’s having the time of his life as he draws a path of destruction with his own fire. The change in perspective, seeing the destruction from a distance instead of seeing it happen below him, drives home even further the absurd ease with which Rhaegal and Drogon are annihilating the dead.

Jon’s shock is why it takes him too long to notice what’s wrong with what he’s seeing. He’s seeing thousands upon thousands of wights.

He isn’t seeing White Walkers. He should, wights don’t gather like this without White Walkers leading them.

No, that isn’t true.

The Army of the Dead doesn’t gather like this without the Night King.

The realization barely has time to hit before there’s a sound so awful it erases all else. It’s a sound that makes his heart stop, it’s a sound Jon didn’t know was possible.

It’s the sound of a Dragon crying out in agony.

His head has already whipped towards the source yet Jon still can’t accept what he’s seeing, refuses to believe what his eyes are telling him is true.

Rhaegal is falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you start screaming at me, wait for the next chapter.


	23. Chapter 23

Daenerys’ voice is lost under the scream Drogon lets out and then Drogon is flying towards Rhaegal as fast he can, forcing Jon to focus on not falling off.

Drogon doesn’t reach Rhaegal before he hits the ground. Jon doesn’t see it happen, Drogon is in the way, but he hears the crash and Rhaegal’s renewed scream of agony, sees the rock and ice thrown into the air by the impact. Despite understanding what’s happening part of Jon still can’t believe Rhaegal fell.

Drogon’s landing almost throws him off, his front smashing into Daenerys, but he’s barely regained his balance before Daenerys is pushing him off her and leaping off Drogon without a backwards glance. Jon follows as fast he can, ignoring the impact as he hits the ground and unsheathing Longclaw as he looks over Rhaegal.

Rhaegal’s teeth are bared and his eyes are bright with a pain Jon never wished to see. Worse, Rhaegal’s right wing is spread limply over the ground and blood is dripping from his shoulder.

A spear of ice is stuck inside it.

Drogon lets out a stream of fire, a quick glance revealing he’s getting rid of the nearest wights charging at them, but Jon is far more focused on Rhaegal’s wound. It’s with horror he sees it’s rapidly being buried beneath _ice_ , the frost spreading over Rhaegal’s scales with frightening speed. An absent part of Jon registers that Daenerys looks as panicked as he feels.

They need to get that thing out of Rhaegal right now.

Rhaegal has realized this as well, for he lifts his head with determination and bites down the spear with the intention to pull it out.

Except he immediately lets go with a scream and Jon sees frost covering the tips of his teeth, though it isn’t spreading.

The frost on his wing is.

Drogon lets out a commanding roar before he unleashes a wave of fire over the spear.

Rhaegal screams. It makes Drogon cut off his fire in an instant and part of Jon is aware of Drogon’s shock and horror, of Daenerys reacting the same way but all he can focus on is Rhaegal’s wound, some of the frost burned away except what does that matter when he can see through the gaps in the ice that Rhaegal’s flesh is _burned_.

Fire isn’t supposed to harm a Dragon.

The gaps in the ice don’t last for long and frost resumes spreading over Rhaegal's wing.

The spear suffered no damage from Drogon’s attack.

When Daenerys snaps something at Rhaegal, Jon is pulled out of his shock. So is Drogon, for he turns his head around and draws another border of fire to keep the wights from reaching them.

Except there’s too many of them, Drogon’s range not wide enough to stop the endless charge. Not while being this close to Rhaegal. Which Drogon realizes as well, for he leaps towards the approaching mass before using his newfound position to keep the dead from overrunning them. Jon sees Rhaegal bend down from the corner of his vision, bringing the spear into Daenerys’ reach, but he’s more focused on the dead.

The dead aren’t attacking Drogon. They react to him, a sea of fire will do that, but they don’t stop their mindless charge forward.

They don’t stop trying to reach Rhaegal.

Daererys crying out in pain makes him return his full vision to her. She’s let go of the spear and is looking at her hands with agony and disbelief.

Her hands are covered in frost.

Rhaegal attempts to burn the ice off her, but instead of unleashing fire, he starts coughing violently. Jon realizes with horror that it isn’t just that Rhaegal can be hurt by fire now.

He can’t release his own.

Rhaegal smothers his coughing with determination, takes a deep breath and manages to force out a flicker of fire. Far, far too little fire.

It’s enough to get rid of the frost covering Daenerys’ hands.

“Look for the Night King,” he orders Daenerys while moving closer to Rhaegal, before stabbing Longclaw into the ground and telling Rhaegal to bend down again. Daenerys might not be able to keep hold of the spear, but he’s wearing gloves. Though that probably doesn’t matter against the magic held by that spear.

He’s still the better choice to get that thing out of Rhaegal. He carries the Blood of the Wolf. House Stark endures the cold better than anyone else.

Rhaegal obeys but before Jon can grasp the spear stuck in his shoulder, he’s hit by a dread he’s felt but once before and his eyes drawn to a distant outcropping. Dozens of White Walkers are on it, seated on mounts long since dead, but that’s not what drew his attention. The lone figure standing in front of them did.

The Night King looks at him with eyes so cold Jon can feel them bite into his flesh. The sight of him is just as terrible as it was at Hardhome. There’s nothing human about the being looking at him, and the fact the Night King is shaped like a man only makes the otherness of him even worse. Yet even that isn’t the most terrible thing about the sight Jon is greeted with.

The Night King is holding another spear.

Just as the horror of this fact hits Jon in full, the Night King starts lifting the spear. He’s taking aim.

He’s taking aim at Rhaegal.

“Drogon!”

Daenerys’ panicked order is unnecessary, Drogon already flying towards the Night King and unleashing a wave of fire.

It hits the Night King full on, hiding him from view but Jon can’t feel any relief over that.

The Night King made no move to avoid Drogon’s fire. The White Walkers did, their mounts galloping away, but the Night King remained still as ice. Then the dead are upon him and Jon is forced to focus on defending himself, Daenerys doing the same.

Except they don’t need to defend themselves. The wights are focused on Rhaegal, would have run right over him and Daenerys if it weren’t for them cutting every wight within range and the danger is real, the wights would crush them if they didn’t defend themselves, but the danger to Rhaegal is so much worse.

Rhaegal is being buried beneath them. Jon sees it happen in the glimpses he catches while defending himself, hears Rhaegal’s cries of anger and pain. He hears Drogon yell with pain as well but he can’t afford to see what happened beyond a quick glance.

The glance is enough to see Drogon unleashing another wave of fire at where the Night King stood. Unlike before, Drogon is standing right in front of the Night King.

The White Walkers make no move to attack Drogon.

Jon is forced to look away, cuts two more wights and steps out of the way of another before it can smash into him. While defending himself, he catches sight of great movements part of him interprets as Rhaegal whipping his tail around and throwing his good wing out, making wights fly through the air. Getting rid of them as best he can.

It isn’t enough. His injured wing is limiting his mobility in the worst of ways. And Rhaegal can’t defend himself with fire.

Except then there is fire, covering Rhaegal’s back and making him hiss with discomfort but that discomfort doesn’t matter because the wights are being burned off, and then Drogon is hitting the ground between Rhaegal and the endless mass of the dead, crushing wights to a pulp and throwing countless of them into the air with a swipe of his tail. All the while he never halts his fire. Burning off every single wight attempting to bury Rhaegal.

Drogon has a deep cut over the side of his mouth, blood dripping down. The wound still holds traces of frost even with him blasting fire at full force.

And then Daenerys is running towards him and yelling at him to get down. Jon obeys, but ducking is not what Daenerys meant for she slams into him at full speed and pushes him down his back, Jon barely catching the reflex to throw her off. Jon realizes the reason behind her actions when she covers his head with her body, and then fire fills the air right over them, the heat intense enough to hurt even with Daenerys covering him as best she can. Had she not been protecting his head, he would have gotten some serious burns.

When the fire cuts off, Jon gets to his feet together with Daenerys, the momentary clearing of wights meaning he has a chance to look over Rhaegal in full. The wights are gone from his chest and neck, and from what Jon can see of the rest of his body, they’re all gone there as well. Then Rhaegal’s head whips behind him and Daenerys, and Jon hears the crunch of breaking bones just as he spins around.

He’s just in time to see the bottom half of a wight drop to the ground, its legs twitching while Rhaegal throws its torso away. Rhaegal looks utterly disgusted and Jon feels a wholly inappropriate flicker of humor. Seems Daenerys isn’t the only one who regrets biting the dead.

All humor fades when he looks at where the Night King stood.

The Night King in unharmed. The ground still burns with the fire Drogon unleashed, yet none of it reaches the Night King, the flames bending away from him like they don’t dare touch him. Jon’s fear is joined by disbelieving despair.

Not even Dragonfire is capable of harming the Night King.

The Night King takes aim at Rhaegal again and Jon is about to yell at Drogon, who’s creating a trench between the dead and Rhaegal in order to slow them down, to attack the Night King again. Even if Dragonfire can’t harm the Night King, it can occupy him enough to keep him from throwing another spear at Rhaegal.

Daenerys speaks up first.

“Get that thing out of Rhaegal.”

Jon realizes what she’s planning to do a moment to late, his hand closing on empty air instead of her arm as Daenerys runs towards Drogon. She jumps onto his side just as Drogon takes off, Drogon lengthening the trench a little further before he turns his full attention to the Night King.

Daenerys is going to fight the Night King. Jon is already taking moving towards her before his conscious mind catches up to what a foolish idea that is. The Night King too far away for him to reach in time even without taking into account the army of wights that stand between them.

He needs to get that spear out of Rhaegal.

Rhaegal agrees, for he lets out a sharp sound that tells Jon to stop being a moron, but Jon is already spinning around and running towards him. He stabs Longclaw into the ground, places a foot on a jutting rock to ensure he’ll have the leverage he needs, and takes hold of the end of the spear Rhaegal brings into his reach.

Holding the spear _hurts_. The cold is unlike any he’s ever felt before, biting and malicious and his gloves torn apart by frost and Jon is vaguely aware of the pained shout escaping him but he forces himself to keep hold of the spear, forces himself to keep pulling. Rhaegal is trying to back away to get the spear out, crying out in pain as he does, but even with both of them pulling as hard they can, the cursed thing refuses to budge!

And then Rhaegal roars with warning and Jon is forced to let go of the spear and reach for Longclaw instead. He manages to get a secure grip on Longclaw despite how hard it is to move his hands, and then he’s defending himself against wights again, barely able to keep up with the onslaught. The charge isn't quite as massive as before, Drogon has gotten rid of a fair amount of them, but Jon's injured hands are hindering him. Rhaegal can’t defend him either, is too busy trying to shake off the dead attempting to bury him once more.

Jon sees Drogon race back towards Rhaegal and Jon realizes Drogon won’t be able to get rid of the dead while he’s standing in front of Rhaegal. So he cuts the wight attempt to run over him before letting go of Longclaw and jumping onto Rhaegal’s good side. He pulls off a wight before he starts climbing as fast he can. He needs to get high enough that Drogon can fire without harming him.

Rhaegal lets out a startled cry before he prevents Jon from getting higher by placing his head right in front of him, tilting his face so spikes are blocking Jon’s path. He’s glaring at Jon and Jon can’t believe Rhaegal has the nerve to act this way at a time like this. Then Drogon unleashes his fire and Jon realizes that while Rhaegal is definitely not pleased with him climbing on, he positioned his head like this so Jon wouldn’t get burned to a crisp while Drogon gets rid of the dead.

Rhaegal lets out a hiss of true pain instead or mere discomfort. The flames must be hitting his wound instead of just his scales, and thank every god there is that Rhaegal’s scales are still fireproof.

Rhaegal doesn’t allow himself to be distracted by the pain, removing his head the moment the flames flow further down his back. Jon jumps down, ducks as Drogon releases another blast of fire to get rid of the dead Rhaegal inadvertently shielded while protecting Jon, before ordering Rhaegal to get the spear within his range again, trusting Drogon will keep the dead away.

He has a brief moment in which he can spare a glance at Daenerys and the Night King, and what he sees makes his blood run cold. Daenerys is a whirlwind, her blades flying through the air as she attempts to slash the Night King.

The Night King is avoiding all her attempts with ease. His movements are too fast and too slow at the same time, abrupt and halting in the most inhuman of ways.

His eyes never leave Rhaegal.

Rhaegal lets out a sharp sound that makes Jon refocus on what needs to be done. Daenerys might not be able to kill the Night King, but she’s succeeding in keeping him from taking aim at Rhaegal. The White Walkers are keeping their distance as well, making no move to go aid the Night King. And they’re far away enough from the fight that should they decide to support the Night King, Drogon will be able to interfere in time.

Jon gets back in position and resumes getting that damned spear out.

The pain is even worse than before. The frost might be spreading far slower than it did over Daenerys’ hands, but Jon can feel his fingers start to freeze solid.

He refuses to let go. He’s the son of Ned Stark, he carries the blood of House Stark.

Starks don’t allow Winter to break them.

Except it doesn’t matter he refuses to let go, he doesn’t have the strength needed to pull out the spear even with Rhaegal trying to move away as well and this is absurd, Rhaegal should be strong enough to back away so the spear will be pulled out.

He isn’t strong enough. Not against the Night King’s magic. Then something huge is covering Jon’s legs and stomach, Drogon’s tail an absent part of him realizes, and Jon is yanked away with a force that steals his breath.

He doesn’t let go of the spear.

Jon hits the ground hard enough to rattle his teeth and Rhaegal screams with pain but the spear is _out_ , it’s no longer stuck in his shoulder, and when Drogon moves his tail and lets out another wave of fire over Rhaegal’s limp wing to get rid of the dead, Jon sees the frost on it melt.

When Drogon pauses for breath, the frost doesn’t resume spreading.

“Burn his wound!” he manages to force out through the pain. “The frost is melting!”

Drogon does as he’s told, making Rhaegal cry out again. Jon tries to get his frozen hands off the spear, and isn’t it ironic that he can’t let go of it now that he no longer needs to hold it?

His hands are covered in ice, the little skin visible blue and the tips of his fingers black. Not good. He can still feel his hands, though.

The agony is growing worse with every moment that passes.

Jon somehow somehow manages to get one hand off the spear and would you look at that, his palm and the insides of his fingers are black as well. He really hopes this won’t lead to him losing his hands.

When he manages to get his other hand off the spear as well, Jon realizes he shouldn’t have done this while still lying down because the spear falls on top of him and frost starts tearing apart his armor. He quickly gets to his feet, relieved the spear falls to the ground instead of sticking to him as he half expected. He looks at Rhaegal.

He sees the exact moment Drogon finishes burning out the Night King’s magic. Rhaegal stops being hurt by Drogon’s fire, and his pain makes way for determination. With a roar of effort, he manages to lift his injured wing, making Drogon roar with victory. The relief that hits Jon is overwhelming but he can’t afford to lose focus. He looks at Daenerys and the Night King, part of him taking note of the roar Rhaegal aims at him before Longclaw is suddenly hitting the ice in front of him. Rhaegal must have thrown it over, but Jon is only absently aware that he’s moving towards it, all his focus on Daenerys and the Night King.

The Night King is still watching Rhaegal. Then he turns his gaze towards Daenerys and instead of dodging as he’s been doing the entire time, he uses his spear to disarm her with an ease that reveals he could have done so at any time, before he does something that makes the world stop.

The Night King stabs Daenerys through the heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, now you can scream.


	24. Chapter 24

Jon’s voice is lost under the screams Rhaegal and Drogon let out, and then Drogon is flying towards Daenerys as fast he can but all Jon can focus on is the spear jutting out her back, the ice dark with blood and her hand is lifting weakly and then the Night King is pulling the spear out and she’s collapsing to the ground and not her, anyone but her.

Drogon doesn’t attempt to attack the Night King, is focused only on grabbing Daenerys, his talons hiding her from view as he flies up as fast he can, roaring at Rhaegal as he does.

The Night King makes no move to attack Drogon. Instead he watches Rhaegal and lifts the spear covered in Daenerys’ blood.

“Go!”

The order escapes him without thought, only knowing Rhaegal needs to get out of here and he needs to get out of here now. Rhaegal roars at him and Jon looks at him with the intention to repeat his order – and falls into endless fire, bright and burning and Jon is seeing colors there are no words for, is hearing heat and tasting magic and he’s so small except he isn’t, Rhaegal is the one who’s too large except they aren’t too anything, they’re perfect just the way they are and they have Chosen Jon and their Jon has accepted them and now their Jon needs to stop standing there like an idiot and _move_.

Jon moves. He grabs Longclaw and puts it away before running towards Rhaegal, Rhaegal already moving to meet him and Jon feels their fury and fear, pain and resolve, feels Rhaegal urging him on and watches himself move closer, the sight strange and indescribable and Jon only knows it’s himself he’s seeing because Rhaegal knows who he is and of course they know who their Jon is, though they hadn’t known he’s this big a moron but that doesn’t matter now. What matters is getting out of here.

What matters is the Abomination. Its limbs are nearing, but the limbs are meaningless compared to the heart. Jon doesn’t agree with that, if the wights cover Rhaegal as they did before they won’t be able to take off, except of course they’ll be able to fly.

They were born to fly.

Their Brother releases their Fire so the Abomination’s limbs won’t reach them and their Jon is finally within range, so they pick him up with their teeth, using their Jon’s knowledge of what his senses are telling him to go as fast as possible without harming him. Being inside a Dragon’s mouth like this is not something Jon ever expected to experience.

They place their Jon where he should be and Jon forces himself to get a secure grip on Rhaegal despite the agony of his hands and they don’t like their Jon being in pain and stop worrying about that and go!

They go. Running as fast they can, their injury preventing them from taking to the sky without a moving start, they lift their wings and force themselves into the air, ignoring the pain it causes and Jon really doesn’t understand how they can ignore that because it makes the agony of his hands seem inconsequential.

They need to leave in order to keep Mother and their Jon from further harm. Allowing their pain to rule them would prevent that, and so they ignore it.

They can’t ignore the difficulty they have in stabilizing their flight. Even using their head and tail to as best they can, it’s a struggle to climb.

They can’t watch the Abomination’s heart like this either.

Jon can. He turns his head around and watches the Night King, and their Jon can’t see the connection between the limbs and the heart, can’t see how the Abomination absorbs all the warmth around it and twists it into something unrecognizable but he doesn’t need to. He can see the Night King follow Rhaegal’s movements, see it prepare to throw the spear and why hasn’t the Night King thrown it already? Because Drogon is in the way? But then why didn’t the Night King throw it while Rhaegal was still on the ground?

Because the Abomination has made a mistake. It believes they’re vulnerable when flying. They aren’t.

Except they are because Jon knows Rhaegal won’t be able to dodge, not while both injured and carrying him.

Them not being able to maneuver as well as they should doesn’t matter. They aren’t vulnerable.

They never are when their Brother is with them.

The Night King throws the spear and Jon can't follow how fast it is but their Brother can and they whip out their tail while twisting their body to keep from harming Mother.

Their Brother knocks the claw off course. It makes their Brother cry out in pain and they start looking at them on instinct but they quickly stabilize their balance when they feel their Jon almost lose their grip. Their Brother sends anger and yells at them to focus, making relief rise. Their Brother wouldn’t be acting like this if something had happened to Mother.

Something did happen to Daenerys! She was stabbed through the chest by the Night King!

She might already be dead.

Mother is alive. She’s touching them as always.

Except her touch is so _faint_. Mother is supposed to be bright and endless, is supposed to warm them as no one else can.

She isn’t supposed to feel cold.

Jon doesn’t have more time to worry about Daenerys because he sees the Night King raise its arms as it did in Hardhome. Unlike then, the dead don’t rise. What happens is worse.

A storm covers the horizon. Out of nowhere the sky is swallowed by impenetrable clouds and roaring winds, the noise deafening as it hurls forward and covers ground with impossible speed and Rhaegal needs to climb and they need to do it now!

They push themselves upwards while sending anger and urgency at their Brother, yelling at them to go high because their Brother is watching the approaching power with shock, the complete idiot!

Their Brother looks at them, shares determination and races towards them while yelling at them not to panic. They realize what their Brother is planning to do right before they grab their Jon with their teeth, and it’s a good thing Rhaegal realized what was going on because Jon would’ve been panicking otherwise. It’s one thing to be inside a Dragon’s mouth while following the experience from both sides, another thing entirely to experience with his own senses only. Not helped by Drogon’s teeth piercing his armor and they worry about that, their Brother is being too rough with their Jon and stop worrying about him, worry about the storm!

They are. They’re climbing faster now, the loss of their Jon giving them greater mobility. Their Brother ensured their passage didn’t twist the air for the worse, though their Brother couldn’t turn the winds to their advantage without risking harm to Mother.

Drogon puts him down their back and Jon has a lot of trouble with keeping himself from falling off, courtesy his newfound chest wounds, the hands that seem to exist entirely out of agony, and not knowing how Drogon is going to move as he knew with Rhaegal. Jon can’t look at Rhaegal either, Drogon prevents him from having a clear view, but they can see their Brother and they hear them yell at them to hurry. Like they aren’t moving as fast they can already.

They aren’t moving fast enough! The storm is about to hit and oh, it isn’t a storm at all, it’s pure Magic, the taste cloying and awful and it’s about to hit Rhaegal!

The impact is more painful than anything they’ve ever experienced and Jon is absently aware that he’s yelling and so is Drogon but all they can focus on is the power tearing into them, trying to drag them down and they can’t see or hear, can’t feel their Brother or Mother but they can still feel their Jon and Rhaegal needs to get out of there and they _will_.

They are Fire. No force is Greater than them.

They release their Fire, burning through the Abomination’s hold and pushing themselves higher, and the Abomination is fighting back, is attempting to smother them but it will fail except the Night King won’t fail, Jon can feel Rhaegal struggling to keep this up, knows they won’t be able to escape the Night King’s Magic before their fire fails them.

Then Drogon is diving, towards the light Rhaegal is creating part of Jon realizes but most of him is focused on not falling off and don’t they dare focus on that, focus on getting out!

They are. Their Brother releases their Fire and rips through the Abomination’s hold and they can feel their Brother and Mother again, their Brother sharing their Fire and clearing a path for them to follow. They force themselves to move as they need in order to take advantage of the opening.

They escape the Abomination’s hold with a song of victory, their Brother’s voice joining theirs as they share in each other’s joy and vicious satisfaction. The Abomination is _not_ Greater than them.

The next time they face it, they will show the Abomination how meaningless its power is compared to Fire.

Jon can’t believe Rhaegal is thinking of facing the dead again, can’t believe Rhaegal doesn’t have a single doubt about their ability to defeat the Night King after what they just went through.

Of course they don’t have any doubts. The Abomination might be capable of hurting them now, but that just means they have to become stronger. And when they are, they are going to destroy it.

That might’ve been more believable if Rhaegal wasn’t struggling to remain airborne.

Their Jon worries a ridiculous amount. They won’t fall.

Their Brother won’t allow it.

Their Brother comes to fly in front of them in a way that makes it easier for them to ride the winds. Jon is relieved Drogon’s aid allows Rhaegal to put more distance between themselves and the Magic still raging below.

They aren’t out of trouble yet. They won’t be until they’ve passed The Wall. That won’t take long even with Rhaegal being far slower than usual, but it’ll cost them time they don’t have.

Daenerys needs aid and she needs it now.

They know Mother needs aid. It’s why they’re taking her back to her chosen.

White Harbor is too far away. By the time they get there, Daenerys will be dead.

Mother won’t die.

Jon does not have time to argue about this. Daenerys was stabbed through the chest with a spear made out of the Night King’s magic. By all rights, she should already be dead.

Mother is alive. Which Jon is aware of, but just because she isn’t dead yet doesn’t mean she can’t die still.

Their Jon is a moron.

And Rhaegal is delusional to a frustrating degree.

They are not. They are bright and clever, and unlike their Jon, they understand how the world works. Mother can’t die and so she won’t.

Like it isn’t possible for Rhaegal to die either?

Exactly.

Jon didn’t think it possible, but Rhaegal is even more arrogant than Daenerys. Rhaegal is incredibly annoyed by his assessment and wholeheartedly disagrees with it, but they don’t argue back. Jon can tell they aren’t doing so because they’ve accepted that their Jon is a moron, and while it makes his own aggravation grow worse, the matter is unimportant right now.

What matters is Daenerys.

They agree, Mother matters above all else. And they know she won’t die, they truly do, but they still worry.

Mother is getting colder.

“We need to get down,” Jon tells Drogon. Drogon replies that they’d like nothing more than to throw them into the Abomination’s hold. They understand their Brother is in a foul mood, but so are they and do _not_ appreciate them talking to their Jon like this. Which they tell their Brother with all the aggravation they possess, but their Brother just sends anger back.

“Daenerys needs help. If we don’t land, she’s going to die.”

Exasperation joins their aggravation, for their Jon just said the one thing that causes their Brother to lose all reason.

As expected, their Brother blasts worry at them and snaps at them to follow them down. They point out they need to clear the Abomination’s hold first. Landing now would put Mother in harm's way.

Their Brother yells with fury, but they also keep out of the Abomination’s reach. Their Brother also snaps at them to go faster, because of course they do. They share their aggravation at their Brother’s behavior, but they also push themselves harder. Jon worries they’re pushing themselves too hard, and they thought Mother was best at worrying, but their Jon is proving them wrong. They didn’t know it was possible to worry like he does.

Jon didn’t know it was possible for anyone to be this arrogant either, but here they are anyway.

When they finally leave the Night King’s magic behind, Drogon snaps at Rhaegal to follow. And to be careful. They share their annoyance and offense, but their Brother ignores that in favor of landing, careful not to harm Mother. They wish their Brother could take more care with their Jon, for their Jon’s pain grows worse and he’s struggling not to fall off, but their Brother is taking care enough and Mother’s safety comes first.

They tell their Brother to lift their Jon off them, for the harm their Jon suffered might grow worse if he climbs down himself. Their Brother shares fierce aggravation but does as they wish. This time Drogon’s teeth don’t pierce his armor, something Jon is incredibly grateful for.

They land more slowly than their Brother did, and they see that their Brother is balancing on their heels in a way that’s both difficult and painful. Ensuring none of their weight is on Mother.

Their Brother is also ignoring the Abomination’s power still clinging to their tail. They move over and burn the disgusting thing off their Brother, making their Brother hiss with pain, though their Brother doesn’t react beyond that. After getting rid of the Abomination’s power, they quickly get rid of their Jon’s touch on their Brother as well, their Brother sharing gratitude in turn. When they’ve finished cleansing their Brother’s back, their Brother moves their mouth for them to cleanse as well and really, this is just insulting.

Their Jon is different from them. He doesn’t experience the touch of those not his Chosen as they do. Then Drogon finishes placing Daenerys down the ground and steps back, and everything else ceases to matter.

Mother is so _faint_. Their Brother covering her had hidden the worst of it, but now they can see how weakly she flickers, how close she is to being extinguished and Daenerys’ eyes are closed, her skin deathly pale and her lips blue. Her chest is covered in frost, the Abomination’s power smothering her Fire. Their Brother is already sharing their Fire with her and they quickly do the same, trying to warm her.

They fail. She keeps becoming colder.

Daenerys is still breathing. Too shallow and rapid but she’s _breathing_.

Jon drops to his knees besides her and starts pulling off her chainmail. He tries to do it as gently as possible, but there’s no time to do it with the care she requires. He needs to get her armor off, can’t assess the damage while she’s wearing it.

He can see that her wound isn’t in the center of her chest as he’d feared. It’s situated fairly low on her left side. Jon prays the Night King didn’t cause vital damage. A fool’s hope, the width of the spear alone means the Night King’s attack was lethal, except it wasn’t because Mother can’t die and so she _won’t_.

They take hold of the metal with their good wing and help their Jon take it off Mother. Jon notes her leathers are wet, the snow scooped up by Drogon turned to water by the heat he radiates. That’ll make it more difficult to cut them open. Though Drogon’s breath is rapidly drying them.

They lower their head and join their Brother in warming Mother from the outside instead of just the inside. Making it easier for their Jon to aid her.

Jon finally gets her chainmail off. He takes out his dagger, curses his injuries when he almost drops it, before cutting open her leathers as fast he can. What he sees is both better and worse than he feared. Better, for the frost prevented Daenerys from bleeding out. Worse, for the cut is so much larger than he’d feared and the flesh around it is frozen solid. Rhaegal’s and Drogon’s breath is melting the edges of the frost covering her but that’s not enough to get rid of the Night King’s magic. And they need to get rid of it.

Daenerys will die if they don’t.

So how do they get rid of it? They can’t burn it out, the Abomination’s power turns their Fire against them.

Longclaw. It’s Valyrian steel. If Rhaegal heats it up, they might be able to burn out the Night King’s magic.

Jon unsheathes Longclaw and hands it to Rhaegal, who grabs it with their teeth before placing it on the ground far away enough that they can release their Fire without harming their Jon.

Their Brother demands to know what they’re doing.

“We need to burn the Night King’s magic out of her,” Jon answers while Rhaegal covers Longclaw’s handle with their uninjured wing and starts blasting the blade with Magic.

Their Brother almost rears back with shock but they catch themselves in time to keep warming Mother from the outside. Their Brother shares incredulity and demands to know if they’re planning to cut Mother with their Chosen’s claw. They reply with frustration at how slow their Brother is. Obviously they’re planning that.

“It’s the only way to get rid of the Night King’s magic,” Jon says so Rhaegal doesn’t need to stop breathing fire, and part of him is marveling at the way Rhaegal can see the heat and Magic being absorbed by Longclaw but most of him is busy wrapping some of Daenerys’ cut leathers around his hands, before wrapping Daenerys’ chainmail over that. Even with Rhaegal covering Longclaw’s handle, Jon knows he won’t be able to hold Longclaw without some kind of protection. And direct contact with Longclaw would set the leathers on fire.

On a brighter note, his hands look a lot better than they did before. They hurt a _lot_ more as well, but Rhaegal’s and Drogon’s heat made them thaw. In a way that shouldn’t be possible, his flesh was frozen solid, but he’s attributing that to their magic and while they’re glad their Jon is less harmed than before, they’d appreciate it if he could focus on Mother now.

Their Brother yells with frustration, because their Brother just loves being loud. But they ignore that in favor of making Jon’s claw take in as much of their Fire as it can hold.

“You’ll need to hold her down and ensure she can’t move,” Jon tells Drogon. “If she moves while I’m doing this, she’ll die.”

If she doesn’t die from having Longclaw stabbed through her in the first place, except of course Mother won’t die from that.

She can’t die.

Their Brother curses the flames their Jon was born in, but they don’t share their annoyance over that insult. No matter how necessary it is, they don’t like the idea of their Jon using their claw on Mother either.

Their Brother positions themselves so Mother won’t hurt herself by moving, and Jon realizes Daenerys needs something placed between her teeth as well. He unwinds the chainmail from one hand, takes off his sword belt, folds the leather and places it between Daenerys’ teeth.

She doesn’t react to either his or Drogon’s handling of her.

When their Jon’s claw is filled with all the Fire it can hold, they pick it up and give it to their Jon. Jon lets out a pained hiss, the heat almost unbearable even with the chainmail wrapped around his hands. He doesn’t have much time before the metal reaches a temperature that will force him to drop Longclaw. Not helped by his injuries. His flesh might no longer be frozen solid, but he's still suffering from frostbite. Ice and fire do not make for a good combination.

Longclaw glows so brightly Jon is incapable of looking at it even indirectly, the light forcing him to close his eyes. But Rhaegal’s vision allows him to position Longclaw over the source of the Night King’s magic.

Mother burns so _weakly_.

“Hold her still,” he orders Drogon. Drogon replies by cursing the egg they came out of, but they know their Brother will listen.

Their Brother will never allow any harm come to Mother. Except they did because Daenerys got stabbed by the Night King, but that was before and this is now, and now their Jon needs to _fix Mother_.

Jon stabs Longclaw through Daenerys.

Mother's eyes fly open and she screams. Even muffled and with Drogon’s answering scream overpowering it less than a moment later, the sound would have made him flinch except Mother will die if their Jon moves and Mother can’t die so their Jon _can’t move_.

Jon doesn’t move. Instead he watches the Night King’s magic unravel through Rhaegal’s eyes, sees how the Fire they filled their Jon’s claw with burns out every trace of the Abomination’s power. The moment the last of it is gone, Jon carefully pulls Longclaw out of Daenerys, who’s gone limp again, before throwing Longclaw aside and looking at Daenerys’ wound with his own eyes, blinking rapidly to clear the afterimage Longclaw burned through his closed lids. It takes a frustrating amount of time before his sight returns, but he examines Daenerys' wound through Rhaegal's eyes in the meantime.

Rhaegal can't determine what happened to her flesh, can't see the damage Longclaw caused, but they can see Mother burn. More importantly, they finally manage to warm her from the inside. Their Brother shares their relief over that, and they respond with their own. Jon takes the opportunity to get rid of the chainmail around his hands. Not an easy task even without taking in account his hampered vision. The metal is painfully hot, and even with the leathers protecting his hands, Jon can feel he’s gotten some serious burns. They worry over the harm their Fire caused to their Jon, but Jon couldn’t care less about about the damage to his hands. What he cares about is Daenerys.

Mother is fine now. Still far too weak, but she isn’t getting colder anymore. She’s stable.

Except she isn’t because Jon's vision is finally clearing, and even ignoring the sheer size of Daenerys' wound, he can see that the flesh around it is blackened and burned. Good in that it prevents her from bleeding out, bad in that it's yet another shock to her system and what if he damaged something vital? 

What if he loses her?

Their Jon won't lose Mother. Mother is burning under her own power again. Far too weakly, but they and their Brother are gently coaxing her Fire to grow. It'll take time before Mother is as bright as she should be, but it will happen.

Then Daenerys starts to shiver. Once again, good in that it shows her body still has enough energy to fight the cold, bad in that she isn’t immune to the cold as she should be.

How can Mother be cold? They’re warming her inside and outside.

And she’s lying on the ground, which is sapping her body heat.

They tell their Brother to hold Mother. They could do it themselves, but their Brother is bigger than them and can cover Mother better than they can. And the harm done to them would make it difficult to keep from harming Mother as well.

Drogon holding Daenerys isn’t enough. Daenerys needs help. Needs care and medicine.

As Drogon gently takes hold of Daenerys with their talons, Jon looks around for landmarks to orientate himself. When he figures out whereabouts they are, he realizes Castle Black is the closest civilization nearby. That’s where they need to take Daenerys.

He needs to take her there without Rhaegal.

No. They aren’t leaving either Mother or their Jon.

They have to. Rhaegal would slow them down to what might be a fatal degree. And Drogon doesn’t know where Castle Black is, they need Jon to guide them.

Their Brother sends annoyance and snaps at them to start talking out loud. How does Drogon realize they’re talking inside their minds?

It’s not like either of them are being subtle about it. And they aren’t leaving Mother or their Jon. They’ll go as fast as they need to in order to save Mother.

No, they won’t. Even if they push themselves as hard they can, they’ll still slow them down. Rhaegal knows that.

They need to accept Daenerys might not have that much time left.

Their Brother, not pleased by their demand being ignored, shares anger and smacks their tail against the side that suffered no harm, hard enough to be felt though of course not hard enough to hurt. That’s a ridiculous fear on their Jon’s part. Which Jon is aware of, but it’s hard not to worry when Rhaegal is injured.

“Daenerys needs to be taken to Castle Black, and we need to go there without Rhaegal,” he tells Drogon. “Rhaegal will slow us down too much.”

Drogon glares at him and derisively says they make mortals seem intelligent. They glare at their Brother and share exactly how unimpressed they are with their Brother’s behavior. Their Jon is their Chosen, and they wouldn’t have chosen him if he were stupid. He’s the one who came up with the idea to use his claw to get rid of the Abomination’s hold on Mother. Their Jon is very clever. In some ways.

And in others Rhaegal considers him a complete moron. Now focus on what’s important.

And suddenly Rhaegal’s stubborn resistance makes way for fear, for something close to despair. They share this with their Brother and tell their Brother their Jon is right. They would slow them down. Mother might not be able to afford that.

Mother is different from them. In some ways she’s more fragile.

Mother doesn’t recover from being harmed as fast as they do.

They see answering fear take hold of their Brother, though their Brother doesn’t share it with them. Instead they share determination and tell them they’ll take their Chosen and bring Mother to where she needs to go. They’ll listen to their Chosen for as long as Mother needs them to.

And if they dare to let the Abomination grab hold of them again, they’re going to make them regret ever coming out of their egg.

They share their gratitude and love, nuzzling their Brother. Their Brother acts annoyed but they share love back. Jon is touched by the display, he truly is, but now is not the time for drawn out farewells. Which they agree with, so they lift their Jon onto their Brother’s back, careful not to harm him. The slight harm their Brother caused their Jon before makes that more difficult, but their Jon’s senses allow them to succeed.

Being lifted like this will never stop being weird. Not in the least because Jon is tasting himself through Rhaegal. There are no words to describe that experience.

Jon realizes Longclaw is still on the ground when Rhaegal lets go of him, but their Jon said Mother needs them to leave now. They’ll take his claw with them.

They tell their Brother to be careful with their Jon, for their Jon is no longer capable of holding on to them as well as he should. Jon appreciates Rhaegal telling Drogon that. He can still use his arms, but his hands have officially given up on the ability to hold things. He’ll need to rely almost solely on his legs in order to keep from falling off. Not an easy task after half a day of flying already.

Their Brother shares annoyance and exasperation, but they agree to be careful.

“Castle Black is over there,” Jon tells Drogon, pointing in in the right direction when Drogon looks at him. Drogon curtly tells them they’ve got it, before telling them to prepare. When Jon’s hold has gotten as good as it’s going to get, he nods at Drogon.

Drogon takes off and oh that hurts, that hurts a lot. The rush of battle is fading and it’s making all his injuries hurt in the worst of ways, never mind the strain his legs are enduring. But Rhaegal doesn’t need to worry. He won’t fall.

They know that, their Brother won’t allow their Jon fall. But they don’t like their Jon being harmed. They don’t like Mother being harmed either, but they’ve endured that before. Their Jon being harmed is new. Even more so because they can feel his pain in a way they can’t feel Mother’s.

And Jon can feel theirs. He doesn’t like that either, worries the Night King will catch up to Rhaegal before he can pass The Wall.

The Abomination isn’t near them. Its limbs might be, but its limbs stand no chance against them, and its heart is far away enough that it won’t be able to catch up before they leave its cage.

All of that might be true, but Jon won’t be satisfied until Rhaegal is in the air again.

And they’re about to be, they just need to grab their Jon’s claw first. Now take care of Mother.

The world turns singular, Jon almost falling off Drogon as Rhaegal’s thoughts and senses disappear. He can still feel Rhaegal, an endless fire full of determination, pain and longing, but his mind is his own again and his double vision is gone. Part of Jon is hit by the freezing winds and the agony of his injuries in a way he wasn’t before, part of him is realizing the state he’s in is a lot worse than he thought it was, but most of him is struggling with the sudden return of clarity. For the first time in what feels like forever, he can think clearly again.

One thought consumes all.

What the fuck just happened?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I present, the chapter in which canon officially gets kicked out the window, goodbye and good riddance.
> 
> I've been looking forward to this chapter so much, you have no idea. The original motivation for writing this fic was Viserion's death. As in, I saw it happen and immediately went; yeah, no, this isn't happening. And then I thought, well, if I'm writing a fic anyway, I might as well fix all the things I hate about season 7. Which then morphed into; wouldn't things be so much easier if Daenerys didn't want the Iron Throne? But it's such an integral part of her, how would I make her lose that desire in a way that feels true to her character? So yeah, that's the evolution of this fic. And these three chapters are the ones I've been looking forward to the most. They're the core reason I started writing this fic in the first place x3
> 
> Also, in case it wasn't clear yet, I love exploring GoT magic and building further on the hints and implications we get in canon, and I especially love exploring Jon's hybrid status as a Stark/Targaryen. Be prepared for all the headcanons I have about his magic. No handful of rides and a vague reference to a slight connection with Rhaegal here, I'm making this a full blown blending of minds, because why not take advantage of Jon's unique status as a hybrid? And I'm planning to explore both his and Rhaegal's magic a lot more in the coming chapters. Though it'll take a few days before the next chapter is up, I need a slight break. But yeah, canon has shamelessly been dropped into the trash. Let's see where this takes us, shall we? 
> 
> As for Daenerys, while she's going to survive thanks to her own magic and her children sharing their own with her, this is not a wound she's just going to walk off. There will be consequences. Same for Jon's own injuries. And I'm very much looking forward to exploring those consequences x3
> 
> I'd love to hear what you think of this chapter! Did you love it? Hate it? Was the mind melding confusing but not too confusing? Did you think I did a good job at portraying the inhuman way in which Rhaegal thinks and reasons?


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been brought to my attention that some people found it confusing that Rhaegal thinks of themselves as they/them. This isn't a result of the mind melding with Jon. It's because canon says Dragons are neither male nor female, and so it wouldn't make sense for Rhaegal to think of themselves as male. They aren't male or female after all. So yeah, they/them is the gender neutral way in which they think of themselves. And the gender neutral way they think of Drogon of as well, because Drogon isn't male or female either. And now Jon thinks of them that way as well, because just like Rhaegal can feel that Jon is male, Jon can feel that Rhaegal is neither male nor female.

So Jon seems to have formed some kind of mental connection with Rhaegal. Not matter how much the distance between them grows, the endless fire that is Rhaegal’s mind presses against his own. He keeps sensing Rhaegal’s most dominant feelings as well, though the nuances are gone. He also knows where and how far away Rhaegal is.

Jon would think he’d turned into a warg, except he knows enough about warging to know that isn’t what happened between him and Rhaegal. He didn’t see through Rhaegal’s eyes, he saw through theirs and his own at the same time. Not to mention that Rhaegal was able to control him instead of the other way around. Rhaegal only took control to prevent Jon from killing Daenerys by accident, but the fact remains that Rhaegal overpowered his mind. Though all those things might be caused by Rhaegal being a Dragon. Perhaps what happened between them is normal when warging with Dragons. Jon doesn’t think so, though. This is closer to the connection Daenerys shares with her Dragons. Yet it’s nothing like it at the same time. As she once said, her children’s minds are their own.

Except Rhaegal’s isn’t, because Jon somehow shared his mind with theirs. Or more accurately, Rhaegal shared their mind with his.

Jon can’t help his exasperation. Of course worrying about Daenerys isn’t enough, he now has to worry about Rhaegal as well. Not for the right reasons either. Right now, Rhaegal’s injury is second to their connection. Mostly because Jon can feel that while the injury is serious, it won’t prevent Rhaegal from crossing The Wall. And Rhaegal is calm in a way they wouldn’t be if they were in battle.

The good news is he doesn’t have to worry about what happened between him and Rhaegal for long. Drogon soon reaches Castle Black. They fly over The Wall, passing the watchtower, and Jon has a fleeting moment in which he sees the two Brothers on watch stare at Drogon with utter shock.

Drogon’s landing is just as rough as it was the previous time. Ensuring Daenerys isn’t harmed.

Unlike last time, Jon is no longer capable of holding on as well he could before. His head smashes against Drogon’s scales, his vision momentarily going black and is chest throbbing with agony as Drogon’s spikes put even more pressure on his chest wounds. Jon only realizes he’s falling off Drogon when they use their wing to catch him. Jon still ends up rolling painfully over the rough leather, but that’s a lot better than hitting the ground like a stone.

After taking a moment to catch his breath, Jon forces himself off Drogon’s wing when Drogon lets out an impatient hiss. He can no longer understand the exact content of what Drogon is saying as he could when sharing Rhaegal’s mind, but the general message comes through loud and clear.

Jon becomes aware panicked voices are filling the air, of men and animals both. When he looks at Castle Black, he sees Brothers stare at Drogon with terrified shock. Others are moving around and yelling.

Most are holding weapons.

“Stand down!” he manages to yell despite still being out of breath.

“Jon?”

The incredulous demand draws his eyes to Edd and oh, moving his head this fast was not a good idea, his vision darkening as he struggles to remain on his feet.

“Edd, tell them to stand down!” he forces out through the spinning of his head. He hears Edd raise his voice and he thinks Edd might be cursing, but it’s impossible to make out the words.

Jon only realizes he’s falling when he stops doing so, warm scales suddenly beneath his cheek. And beneath his chest. Which is throbbing very painfully.

He opens his eyes to find himself being held up by Drogon’s nose. Drogon is glaring at him.

“You’re always glaring at me.”

Drogon lets out a derisive snort, making hot air wash over Jon. Jon now understands this snort holds a specific insult. He wonders what about him Drogon is insulting this time. The egg he came out of?

“I didn’t come out of an egg.”

The look Drogon gives him makes clear that whatever insult he made before, he’s now insulting his intelligence.

“You don’t like me.”

Drogon lets out an aggravated sound and gently helps him stand on his own feet. So he doesn’t need to lean on Drogon anymore. Because Drogon doesn’t like touching him. But they will in order to protect him. Drogon is nice.

“How can you be nice and mean at the same time?”

Drogon lets out another aggravated sound, but this time they look long suffering in addition to being angry. Then they glare at him and let out a commanding roar. It’s enough to pull Jon out of the daze he suddenly realizes he’d fallen into. His body is about to crash.

He needs to act fast.

“Mind telling me what’s going on?”

The strangled question makes him look towards Edd. Edd is near and he’s coming nearer still. Edd looks terrified. His eyes are flickering between Jon and Drogon.

“I need a stretcher,” Jon says, refocusing on what needs to be done. “And get Ash.” Ash is the closest thing to a healer they have since Sam left.

Edd focuses on him, giving him a once over before his gaze halts on his chest. Edd becomes worried. Then he yells for someone to bring a stretcher. And for Ash to get the infirmary ready. Good.

Jon tries to move towards Edd but he stumbles before he can. This time Drogon doesn’t catch him. Edd does.

“What happened?” Edd demands.

“We fought the Night King.”

Edd startles before he curses as only Edd can. He yells for a stretcher again. Jon realizes Edd thinks the stretcher is meant for him when Noa and Flynn grab one and Edd waves them over.

Drogon lets out an impatient roar. It makes Noa and Flynn freeze, but when Edd yells at them to move it, they resume coming closer. Not as fast as before, though.

Drogon is listening to Edd. They’re listening to everyone, in fact. Their usual dismissal of people is nowhere to be found.

“It’s not for me,” he tells Edd.

“What, is the Dragon supposed to get on it instead?” Edd snaps, looking wild eyed and frazzled. His gaze is flickering between Jon and Drogon again. Jon forces himself to stand on his own power. He’s about to tell Drogon to let go of Daenerys, but Drogon is already doing so. Jon feels a pain in his chest that has nothing to do with his injuries when Drogon steps back.

“It’s for her,” he somehow manages to force out, unable to look away from Daenerys, unconscious and blue lipped and deathly pale. Unable to look away from her burned flesh and gaping wound.

She’s still breathing.

From the corner of his vision, he sees Edd stare at Daenerys with shock.

“Fuck me, you were telling the truth.”

Because Drogon’s presence didn’t make that abundantly clear already.

Jon clasps Edd’s shoulder, making Edd return his gaze to him. Edd doesn’t stop being shocked.

“Edd, focus,” he orders harshly. To his relief, the command is enough to make Edd shake off his Dragon induced stupor. Edd yells at Noa and Flynn to hurry, before giving him a determined look. Edd wraps his arm around his waist, pulls Jon’s arm over his shoulder, and all but hauls him towards Daenerys. Jon is grateful.

Daenerys is being warmed by Drogon’s breath.

“What happened to her?” Edd demands, apparently not having gotten rid of his shock after all. Jon already answered that question.

He now answers it in more depth.

“She got stabbed by the Night King.”

Edd gives him an incredulous look before he shakes his head with a grim expression.

“Guess we should light a funeral pyre.”

Jon throws himself against Edd, barely in time to keep Edd from getting his head bitten off. Both of them hit the ground, Jon screaming as Edd falls on one of his hands, but Jon forces himself to ignore the agony great enough to blacken his vision. He’s far more preoccupied by Drogon’s furious roar at being denied their kill.

“You aren’t helping!” he snaps at Drogon, trying to see them through the stars dancing across his vision. Drogon lets out another roar, one that makes clear they’re in no mood to listen to reason. Wonderful.

“The more people you kill, the less there are to help Daenerys,” he snaps, trying a different tactic. This time Drogon lets out a hateful hiss. Still furious by what Edd said but willing to exercise restraint. To a certain degree.

“Edd didn’t mean it.”

“Course I didn’t, she’s going to live to be a hundred, an age, forever even,” Edd babbles with mindless terror. “No dying for her, ever.”

Good answer.

Jon takes a few moments to catch his breath and stop seeing stars, before determinedly getting to his feet. Edd quickly does the same while Jon yells at Noa and Flynn to move when he sees both of them are frozen with terror.

They don’t listen.

“He won’t hurt you if you help Daenerys, but he will if you don’t, so _move it_ ,” Jon commands with a glare. Thankfully, the threat of Drogon attacking them is enough to snap Noa and Flynn out of their stupor. They resume coming over, faster than before. Noa and Flynn have always had nerves of steel. It’s why they’re bringing over the stretcher in the first place.

Drogon watches intently as Noa and Flynn place Daenerys on the stretcher with the utmost care. When they start taking her to Castle Black, Drogon follows. So does Jon. Half carried by Edd, but he’s moving. Part of Jon is aware of the men running away from Drogon but most of him is focused on forcing himself to keep walking.

Noa and Flynn take Daenerys to the infirmary, where Ash is thankfully laying out tools and medicine. Edd helps him sit down a chair while Ash starts examining Daenerys. The grim expression Ash gains makes Jon’s worry grow. Then the room is darkened by Drogon covering all the windows so they can look at Daenerys. Jon snaps at them to move out of the way. Ash needs light to work.

Drogon roars with anger because of course they do, but they also move so they’re blocking but one window. Allowing Ash enough light to work.

Jon waves Edd off when he starts questioning him about his own wounds.

“Will she live?” he demands. Ash, now wild eyed because of Drogon’s actions, does not give a comforting answer.

“I don’t understand how she’s still alive in the first place.”

To no surprise, Drogon lets out another furious roar.

“Be quiet! Ash can’t work like this!”

Drogon lets out a hiss that tells Jon everything he needs to know about how displeased they are with the care Daenerys is receiving, but they fall quiet afterwards. Small mercies, but right now Jon will take all he can get.

“Ash, make sure she lives,” Edd orders grimly.

“Easier said than done,” Ash says in a strangled voice, terrified eyes locked onto Drogon. But when Edd repeats his name sharply, Ash shakes himself out of his panic. He starts ordering Noa and Flynn, still in the room with them. Telling them to get Daenerys out of the remnants of her ruined leathers. Jon looks on as Ash grabs some kind of medicine. Looks on as Ash starts truly caring for Daenerys.

It takes him a few moments to realize Edd is saying something. The reason he notices is because Edd starts unbuckling his armor. Jon grabs his arm on reflex and then hisses at the agony that causes his hand.

“Jon, you need to take this off. In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re bleeding.”

He is? Right, Drogon pierced his armor when they grabbed him from Rhaegal’s back. The puncture wounds aren’t deep, at least, Jon doesn’t think they are. But they do need to be cared for. Same for his hands. And the other cuts and cruises he got during the battle.

Ash is looking after Daenerys. So are Noa and Flynn. Jon can allow Edd to look after him instead.

Jon allows Edd to take his armor off, absently following Edd’s directions and trying to ignore the way it makes the throbbing of his entire body so much worse. His head is pounding as well.

Most of him focused on Daenerys.

She’s so still. So devoid of energy. So unlike the vibrant image she’s supposed to present.

She can still die. He can still lose her.

He can lose her as he lost Ygritte.

“So just how fucked are we if she dies?” Edd asks in a low voice, his gaze flickering towards Drogon. Drogon, who heard Edd, gives Edd a hateful glare but thankfully remains quiet.

“Ask me again when I can think clearly,” Jon says, exhaustion slamming into him with a vengeance. Now that Daenerys is in Castle Black, now that he’s done all he can for her, his body is crashing with a vengeance. The injuries he sustained, the exertion of battle, the flying before that. All of that is now hitting him like a sledgehammer. The burning that is Rhaegal’s presence, growing stronger with every moment that passes, isn’t helping. They’re about to reach Castle Black. Even injured, Dragons can cover ground with unparalleled ease.

Was it only this morning he and Daenerys left White Harbor? It feels like an eternity ago.

“Would a punch to the face help?” Edd asks seriously. “I’d gladly take on that duty for the good of all.”

Jon feels a whisper of humor but it’s gone as fast as it appears. Edd places a hand on his forehead and grimaces.

“You’ve got a fever. Great.”

“My hands are injured as well,” Jon says, realizing Edd doesn’t know that yet. His hands are still wrapped in Daenerys’ leathers.

“You just keep the good news coming.”

Edd unwraps the leathers from one hand, making Jon scream as his vision goes black. Gods, but that hurts.

Edd curses viciously.

“What the fuck did you do to yourself, you absolute lunatic?”

Grabbed ice and fire. Jon doesn’t say that out loud, though. It’s a struggle just to keep his breathing steady. The air hitting his ruined skin is not doing him any favors.

Edd yells for Ash, but Jon snaps at him to keep working on Daenerys. Her survival comes before all else.

“Don’t be an idiot,” Edd snaps but whatever he says next is lost by the world splitting in two. Jon knows Edd is still talking, hears his aggravated voice and sees his worried expression, but he also sees The Wall.

Except he doesn’t see a wall at all. He sees pure Magic.

He sees a dome. The Magic that forms The Wall covers the ground and arches over the sky, indescribable colors woven together in a net of pure power and Jon had noticed this before, had seen it when escaping the Night Kin,g but he hadn’t realized this isn’t how Rhaegal always sees the world.

Of course they don’t always see the world like this. The sky isn’t supposed to be covered, that goes against its very nature. It’s why they were so interested in the lock in the first place. Now is Mother awake yet?

No, she’s still unconscious. Jon looks at Daenerys so Rhaegal can see that for themselves. They are displeased.

They want Mother to wake up.

Daenerys got stabbed through the midriff by Night King, and then she got stabbed again by Jon himself. Either one of those things would make it impossible for her to wake up soon, never mind both of them.

They know that. Mother has been harmed before, and sometimes she sleeps for a long time after. Doesn’t mean they can’t want her to wake up now.

How can Rhaegal be so certain she won’t die?

Because Mother can’t die and so she won’t.

Jon is fairly certain Drogon doesn’t agree with that.

Of course their Brother agrees with that. Their Brother just worries a ridiculous amount as well. Before they Chose their Jon, they thought only Mother was better at worrying than their Brother is.

Jon can’t help but worry. Is that going to be a problem?

No. Their Jon is perfect just the way he is.

It’s the most touching thing anyone has ever said to him. Jon can feel Rhaegal’s sincerity, knows with absolute certainty that Rhaegal truly does consider him to be perfect just the way he is. Rhaegal doesn’t like everything about him, but even if they were given the chance, they wouldn’t change a single thing about him.

If they wished to change something about their Jon, they wouldn’t have Chosen him.

“Jon.”

Jon refocuses on Edd, now squeezing his shoulder. They don’t like the mortal touching their Jon.

Edd is a friend. He can touch him if he so wishes.

They know this is one of their Jon’s Chosen, know its touch is pleasing to their Jon. And they’re happy its touch pleases their Jon.

Doesn’t mean they have to like the mortal touching their Jon.

When Edd tightens his grip on his shoulder, Jon realizes he's missed another question Edd posed. Edd was talking, that he knows, but it was impossible to focus on the words. He can take a guess what Edd was asking, though. Edd was probably asking why he’s acting the way he is. The answer to that question is simple.

“Rhaegal is here.”


	26. Chapter 26

Their Brother flies up and makes it easier for them to land, though of course they would’ve been able to land without their Brother’s aid as well.

They drop their Jon’s claw the moment they can. Their Jon’s claw is not comfortable to hold. It’s Cold.

Here Jon thought Dragons weren’t affected by the cold.

They aren’t. They are Fire, cold is meaningless compared to their power. So is Cold, but that doesn’t mean it’s comfortable. Jon would have asked for clarification on the difference, except their Brother blasts aggravation at them and snaps at them that their Chosen is an idiot.

They do not appreciate their Brother insulting their Chosen like this. Which they share with their Brother, but their Brother couldn’t care less about that. Their Brother tells them their Chosen said Mother would be made better if they brought her here. She hasn’t been made better.

They point out this isn’t the first time Mother has been harmed. It’s not unusual for her to sleep a long time after.

Their Brother, impatient as ever, yells at them that they want Mother to get better _now_. They share their exasperation and retort that if their Brother wishes Mother to get better now, their Brother should go get her chosen. Mother’s chosen are great at fixing her.

To no surprise, their Brother shares offense and tells them they have no intention of leaving Mother. They give their harmed wing a pointed look and ask. Should they go get Mother’s chosen instead?

As expected, their Brother blasts worry and anger at them and tells them to stop being stupid. They aren’t flying again until their wing is no longer harmed.

Jon witnesses all this without looking away from Daenerys. Rhaegal needs to see her, and Jon himself doesn’t want to look away from her either. He does tell Rhaegal he can send a raven to White Harbor. Viserion will be able to bring Daenerys’ people.

Their Brother is already on their way here. It won’t be long before they arrive. Their Brother is very fast.

“Jon!”

Jon forces himself to focus on Edd. Edd sounded panicked. He was also asking something but Jon didn’t have the energy to process the words. Not while listening to Rhaegal and Drogon argue at the same time.

“Could you repeat that?” he asks while Drogon snaps at Rhaegal to sit down and wait. They don’t like being treated like they’re vulnerable, but they know their Brother is worried about them, and so they do as they’re told and watch as their Brother goes to get them something to eat.

Edd repeats whatever he said before but Jon has other concerns on his mind. Like making sure Rhaegal won’t eat any of his Brothers.

Of course they won’t eat mortals. Ignoring that these mortals are Jon’s chosen, Mother doesn’t like it when they do that without her permission.

Daenerys gives them permission to eat people?

Sometimes.

Jon refocuses on Edd when Edd says his name again. He consciously processes that Ash is standing besides him as well. That’s not right. Ash should be taking care of Daenerys.

This is true. Their Jon is harmed, but Mother is harmed worse. She needs care the most.

“Take care of Daenerys.”

“Fuck that, you–”

Edd’s voice cuts off as Drogon releases their fire. On the horses. That isn’t good. They need those horses. And the stables are now on fire as well.

And they need to eat. They’re hungry.

They’re ravenous. Jon is getting hungry just from feeling Rhaegal’s need to eat.

Their Jon should eat as well. Eating is a great way to recover from being harmed.

Edd says something before running out the room. Ash says something and touches him as well. Urging him to stand up. They don’t like the mortal touching their Jon.

Is Rhaegal going to complain every time someone touches him?

Yes.

While Ash leads him to a bed Flynn is hurriedly getting ready, their Brother stomps out the flames before bringing over the food, using their tail to carry all of the meat in one go. Dropping all the pieces in front of them, they order them to eat. They point out their Brother needs to eat as well. Their Brother isn’t harmed as much as they are, but they’re harmed a little. Eating will be good for them as well.

They share their worry when their Brother glares at them. It’s enough to make their Brother turn exasperated, but they share reluctant agreement. Their Brother grabs the smallest piece of meat, devours it as fast they can, before ordering them to eat.

They waste no time in doing just that. This isn’t their favorite food, but right now they’re so hungry they’d be willing to eat eels. Jon marvels how he can feel Rhaegal grow stronger with every bite they take.

Like they said, eating is a good way to recover from being harmed. Which is why their Jon should eat as well. So should Mother.

“Daenerys needs to eat.”

So should their Jon.

After Daenerys has eaten.

Except Ash is holding up a cup to his lips and tilts it. Jon swallows the liquid on instinct. Willow bark extract. To combat his fever, Jon supposes.

The mortal touches their Jon again and Jon resigns himself to Rhaegal’s distaste of that. Jon tells Ash to take care of Daenerys while their Brother makes their way back to Mother, snapping at the nearest mortals to stay away. The mortals listen to their Brother.

Ash doesn’t listen to him. Instead he startles as the window is darkened by Drogon, but then he resumes putting ointment on Jon’s wounds. They don’t like the pain that inspires, but Jon knows it’s the good kind of pain. The kind that will lead to healing. And Noa is still caring for Daenerys, gently putting ointment on her wound as well. Flynn moves to help him.

It’s strange how people appear to Rhaegal. Rhaegal can understand Ash’s, Noa’s and Flynn’s actions because Jon can, but the people outside are something else entirely. Rhaegal can distinguish them by the unique scents of their blood and the whispers of magic some hold, but they can’t tell them apart beyond that, and thus, Jon can’t either. Hair color, body shape, clothing. All of it looks the same to Rhaegal. They can’t tell what kind of expression anyone is wearing either. Or anything else about their body language.

No one looks even close to how Rhaegal sees him and Daenerys. Which isn’t surprising when it comes to Daenerys, to Rhaegal, Daenerys looks startlingly similar to Dragons. Smaller, but similar. Jon looks completely different, though. He thought that was how all people looked to Rhaegal.

Of course mortals don’t look anything like their Jon. They’re mortals.

So are he and Daenerys.

Don’t be ridiculous, Mother and their Jon aren’t anything like those noisy creatures. Jon might have found that insulting on his Brothers’ behalf, except he can hear what people’s voices sound like to Rhaegal. It is indeed pure noise. And just like Rhaegal can’t read people’s body language, they can’t pick up on the meaning behind different tones either. They’re also incapable of understanding what people are saying. Which, Jon knows Rhaegal can understand speech. Why can’t they do so now?

They aren’t putting in the effort needed to understand mortals.

Why not?

Understanding mortals is very difficult, and it gives them a headache if they do it for long. They’re in no mood to do that when it isn’t necessary.

Rhaegal never has any trouble understanding him and Daenerys.

Mother and their Jon are Fire. Their Jon was a little difficult to understand at first, he speaks in a strange way. But it wasn’t that hard to figure out what he was saying, and it didn’t take long to grow used to his manner of speech either.

Jon looks like a Dragon to Rhaegal? That can’t be right. Jon looks completely different from Daenerys.

That’s because their Jon is a Cold Fire. He’s what Ice would be if it were Fire. It’s what drew their interest in the first place. They hadn’t known Fire could be Cold.

Jon hadn’t known he looked like a Dragon to Rhaegal either.

Their Jon doesn’t look like Fire. He is Fire. A different Fire than them, but Fire nonetheless.

Of course he’s different from Rhaegal. He’s a man.

Their Jon isn’t mortal. He’s different like Mother is, incapable of releasing his Fire, lacking wings, and staying very small. But he’s Fire. Mortals aren’t Fire.

Jon is starting to understand why Daenerys is so convinced she’s a Dragon.

They don’t understand how their Jon can think himself a mortal.

They finish devouring all but one piece of meat. Grabbing that with their teeth, they bring it to their Brother. Their Brother sends annoyance and exasperation, but when they drop the food next to them, their Brother obligingly eats it.

They’re still hungry. And their Brother needs to eat more as well.

There’s livestock they can eat. Jon would appreciate it if they don’t destroy the fences and stables, though.

They’ll be careful with their Jon’s things, they – startle as the world turns singular. Their Jon is still with them, yet they’re no longer sharing his senses.

This can’t be good.

Their Brother informs them their Chosen has fallen asleep. Rhaegal is relieved but Jon isn’t. He’s pretty sure he collapsed instead of falling asleep.

Fire can’t collapse. Mortals can, but Fire can’t.

Ignoring the fact that Jon is a man, Rhaegal said his magic is different from theirs. They might not be able to collapse, but he can. Jon would appreciate it if Rhaegal could look at him. Rhaegal’s vision might be strange, but it’s far better than nothing.

They tell their Brother to move over. Their Brother grumbles but obliges them like always.

They look at their Jon. What they see cause worry of their own to rise.

Their Jon is unstable. It's no surprise their Brother hadn't noticed that, their Brother shares no bond with their Jon. Their Brother noticed their Jon isn't as strong as it should be of course, and so did they, but they thought that was because their Jon is harmed. That's the entire point of being harmed. Their own Fire isn't as strong as it should be either. And they knew their Jon wouldn't recover as fast as them, their Jon is like Mother, and Mother always needs more time than them to recover. They hadn't worried about that, not when their Jon believed his reaction to the harm he suffered was normal as well.

They worry about it now. They’re sharing their Fire with their Jon. He should be stable. Jon is pretty sure things don’t work like that, but their Jon is wrong because things do work like that. They and their Brother are sharing their Fire with Mother, and it’s keeping Mother stable. Their Brother is sharing their Fire with them as well, and it’s making them better.

Their Fire should be making their Jon better. At the very least, it should be keeping him stable.

They stop sharing their Fire with Mother so they’ll be able to share it better with their Jon. And startle when their Jon flickers even worse, to the point even their Brother notices. Their Jon is struggling in a way Fire, even strange Fire like his, never should. Horror rises as they understand what’s happening. They knew their Jon is different from them, knew their Fire could harm him from the outside.

They didn’t think it could harm him from the inside.

They pull their Fire back but they can’t separate themselves from their Jon completely. Not when they’ve Chosen their Jon. Jon wishes he could help but he barely understands what’s happening between them in the first place. He has no idea how to untangle his mind from theirs.

They might not be able to separate themselves completely, but they can put distance between their Fires. They turn around and start running, preparing to take to the sky. And almost fall down when their Brother grabs their tail with their own, their Brother blasting anger at them as they demand to know what they’re doing. They try to free their tail despite knowing how useless it is, their Brother’s grip is unbreakable, but they need to leave and they need to leave now!

They share their urgency and horror with their Brother, making their Brother startle. They tell their Brother that they are _harming_ their Jon. They know their Brother doesn’t want them to fly when harmed, knows their Brother wants to keep them near so they can keep sharing their Fire, but they need to leave and they need to leave now. It’s the only way to stop harming their Jon.

Their Brother is torn and shares their worry and love and they know, they know their Brother worries for them but they need to _leave_.

They can’t harm their Jon.

Jon has never had anyone care for him like this. This all consuming horror at the mere idea of hurting him even the slightest bit, this desperate need to keep him healthy and safe.

He’s never felt loved like this.

Their Brother lets out a great breath and gently nuzzles their tail before letting go of them, no longer sharing their worry but still sharing love. They’re sharing understanding as well.

They send love and gratitude back while taking to the sky and leaving as fast they can. Jon urges Rhaegal to go slower, they’re pushing themselves too hard, but they don’t listen. They’ll stop pushing themselves when they’re no longer harming their Jon.

Their Brother yells at them to be careful but they don’t react to that either. They’re out of the Abomination’s cage. The only ones they might need to fight are mortals, and mortals pose no threat to them. Jon doesn’t agree with that, but their Jon hasn’t seen them fight mortals yet. He’ll learn.

Their Brother also yells at them to eat and sleep, and normally they would be exasperated by how much their Brother worries but right now nothing matters beyond caring for their Jon. They’re almost far away enough to stop harming him.

How does Rhaegal know that?

By knowing it. Now _get better_.

Jon’s eyes fly open and Rhaegal’s thoughts are gone, the world experienced through his own senses only. Just like last time, he can still feel some of Rhaegal’s emotions, their horror transforming into relief. Just like last time, Jon can think clearly again.

Unlike last time, he doesn’t wonder what just happened. Instead he’s overcome by exhausted resignation.

He was right to worry about the connection between himself and Rhaegal.


	27. Chapter 27

With Rhaegal’s thoughts no longer entwined with his own, Jon is capable of focusing on conversation again. Or rather, he is after his wounds, his hands in particular, have been taken care of as best as is possible. The agony that inspires doesn’t leave room for anything else. But after that torment is over, he learns his fever spiked while Rhaegal was here. It dropped the moment Rhaegal put enough distance between him, but it isn’t gone yet.

Yes, Jon was right to worry about the connection between himself and Rhaegal.

Thankfully, Rhaegal is calm again now that they’ve put enough distance between them. They’re still moving further away, but they’re doing so at a far slower pace. No longer stressing their injured wing as much.

Daenerys is still unconscious. Still blue lipped and deathly pale. And Ash informs him her temperature is too low. Far, far too low.

When Jon orders Noa to stoke the fire higher, Drogon lets out a commanding roar. Jon doesn’t need to understand the exact content to realize what Drogon is demanding of him.

Jon orders Flynn to open the window Drogon is in front of. Flynn stares at him with utter incredulity, and Ash, who stopped tending Daenerys the moment Drogon roared, curses loudly. Noa echoes the general curse and Flynn curses him out specifically. But Flynn does as commanded.

Jon has missed being among his Brothers.

The moment the window is open, Drogon starts heating the room with his breath. Hopefully that will help Daenerys warm up. Drogon covering the window with his mouth means they can no longer watch Daenerys, but getting her temperature up takes priority. Which is why Jon repeats his order to Noa to stoke the fire higher.

Flynn goes to inform Edd of Jon’s return of clarity, and Edd soon arrives to question him about the details of what happened. Jon answers him as best he can, telling him about facing the Night King and of Rhaegal choosing him. Of being able to see through Rhaegal’s eyes and hear their thoughts. Jon is telling Edd about tasting himself through Rhaegal’s tongue when he realizes.

“I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“Not one bit.”

The deadpan reply inspires a whisper of humor. Edd’s grim expression makes it fade, though.

“So if I’m getting this right, blue eyes aren’t the only things we need to worry about,” Edd says in a low voice while giving Drogon a quick and fearful glance. Thankfully, Drogon is no longer listening to Edd. They do pay attention whenever Ash speaks up, though.

Edd relaxes a little when Drogon doesn’t react to him.

“Just what we needed,” he finishes a little less soft than before. Which is when Jon realizes what Edd means by blue eyes not being the only thing they need to watch out for. Jon shakes his head and regrets doing so when dizziness assaults him. He’s vaguely aware Edd makes an aborted movement towards him, but given that Jon is propped up in a bed, it’s not like Edd can steady him.

“It doesn’t work like that. Dragons need to love you to form a bond. And Rhaegal thinks men are noisy creatures.” Jon is fairly certain Drogon feels the same way. Though it wouldn’t surprise him to discover Drogon thinks even less of people than Rhaegal does.

Edd couldn’t be more relieved by his words.

“Thank the gods for that.”

Jon thinks Noa might repeat the sentiment, but it's so hard to focus.

He focuses nonetheless and makes another attempt to explain what happened. But when he starts explaining how Rhaegal is neither male nor female, he realizes giving Edd a coherent recounting of what happened just isn’t possible. Rhaegal might no longer be influencing his thoughts, but he’s injured, feverish and exhausted. Not a good combination to making sense.

Edd agrees with his assessment, for he asks but two specific questions. Namely, how to avoid being killed by Drogon, and whether or not they need to worry about being eaten.

“No, Drogon won’t kill people for food. Just make sure he has enough livestock to eat.” Dragons eat a lot even at the best of times. This isn’t an issue when they’re near the ocean, Dragons are great fishers, but on land and with Daenerys injured, they’ll need to ensure Drogon has enough to eat without needing to leave.

Jon pauses as he realizes he spoke about Drogon as a male. That isn’t right. Being inside Rhaegal’s mind made clear Dragons don’t have a gender as Jon knows it. But he can’t refer to Drogon as an it, that would just be disrespectful.

“I’m guessing our own isn’t enough,” Edd says grimly, making Jon refocus on him. When he nods, Edd shakes his head. “Going to take some time to gather more with all our horses gone,” Edd says softly, more to himself than to Jon. “Anything else we need to know in order to keep from getting killed?” Edd continues, the question aimed at him this time.

“Don’t touch him, ever. Stay away from him as much as you can. And don’t insult Daenerys.”

“Don’t act like a halfwit, got it.”

With that, Edd takes his leave in order to spread the message. Before he leaves, he tells Jon to get some rest.

“Maybe you’ll start making sense after you do.”

Jon would have liked to rest, except Ash needs to treat his hands further and that does not allow for sleep _at all_. Jon genuinely fears he might lose them. He has serious burns and is suffering from frostbite as well. Either one of those things would be bad enough all on its own, but together...

Yet even that isn’t the worst part.

The worst part is seeing Daenerys. Her wound has been cared for as best as is possible and she’s now covered in blankets. Noa is sitting besides her to monitor her condition.

She looks so small. Daenerys isn’t a tall woman, the opposite in fact. But normally her presence is so great, so vibrant and full of life, that she seems far larger than she actually is.

Right now that presence is gone. It leaves her looking hollow and faded. Makes her seem lifeless.

The sight is more terrifying than anything else. It was easy to stop fearing for her life when Rhaegal was with him. Rhaegal is so certain that Daenerys will live that it’s impossible not to believe them when sharing their mind. Part of him still worried about Daenerys of course, how could he do anything but, but he didn’t truly fear she would die.

He does now.

Jon supposes it’s a good thing the agony of his hands is making it hard to think. It keeps the fear of losing Daenerys from consuming him completely.

Ash tries to relocate him to another room, the what is fast becoming oppressive heat of the infirmary isn’t the best thing for his fever, but Jon refuses. He needs to see Daenerys. Needs to know she’s still alive. And when Ash and Noa try to move him without his consent, he puts up enough of a fight to make them give up. Or perhaps Drogon’s roar or warning did that. Probably the latter now that he’s thinking about it.

Jon keeps watching Daenerys until sleep drags him under.

They startle as their Jon becomes them. They thought they were far away enough to avoid that.

They are. Jon is sleeping.

But he woke up before. They know he did.

He did. Rhaegal putting distance between the two of them helped. It was the right thing to do.

They’re so relieved. Harming their Jon is one of the most horrible things in existence. The only thing worse is harming Mother.

They’ve injured Daenerys? That must have happened when they were little.

It did. Not often, and they never caused her great harm and they learned from every single mistake as well. But it’s happened before. It no longer does of course.

Is Mother awake yet?

Not yet. Jon will let Rhaegal know the moment that changes.

Good. They miss Mother. And their Brothers. And the rest of their Jon.

It’s been at most an hour since Rhaegal left.

It’s been an eternity.

It’s interesting how Rhaegal truly means that. For them, the only time that matters is the present. There’s before and there’s later as well, but the now is what’s important. The instant the present becomes the past, it joins the even mass of their memories and becomes unimportant. The future is even less important.

It’s soothing. For once, Jon doesn’t have to worry about the future. He only needs to worry about the now. And Rhaegal lessen even that. Rhaegal doesn't worry. They want.

They want to be with Mother, their Brothers and all of their Jon now.

They can’t. Rhaegal has to wait.

They hate waiting. So does Jon, normally. This time he doesn’t mind so much, though. The ground Rhaegal is lying on, the sensation of earth warmed by fire, the scents and sounds that are so strange, yet through Rhaegal so familiar at the same time. The lack of worry over what the future might bring. The lack of guilt over all the mistakes he's made.

Jon feels at peace.

They’re glad their Jon feels that way. They want their Jon to be happy.

Jon wants Rhaegal to be happy as well.

They will be when they return to Mother, their Brothers, and all of their Jon. But they’re already happy part of their Jon is with them.

They’re also no longer hungry. What did Rhaegal eat?

Goats. And a couple of dogs.

Could Rhaegal be more specific?

They share their memories of what they ate but that doesn't actually help Jon. As it turns out, Rhaegal can't count, and thus, Jon can't either. Not when viewing Rhaegal's memories at least. That is an incredibly odd experience indeed.

Jon would appreciate it if they could open their eyes. He needs to know where they are so he can send compensation to the shepherd for his loss. Multiple shepherds?

They have no idea if the creatures were claimed by mortals or not.

They open their eyes and look around for their Jon. Jon realizes he won’t be able to figure out where they are. Rhaegal sees the world in such a strange way it impossible to recognize any landmarks. Snow doesn’t look like snow, it looks indescribable. A transformation of heat into cold. One Rhaegal doesn’t just see but hears as well. The transformation isn’t like the Night King’s magic, that was wrong in ways Jon can’t explain. This is natural.

And the earth is endless, a mass of solid energy Jon can’t put into words but which is as constant as the sky is. Yet the sky is its complete opposite. The sky isn’t solid and steady, isn’t an anchor to all.

The sky dances.

It dances to a song Rhaegal experiences through scent and taste. Trees and plants form a pulsing beat, singing of ages long since past and whispering of things yet to come. Animals are starbursts of heat, bright melodies to accompany the drumming of the plant life. It’s indescribable.

It’s beautiful. Jon had seen the world through Rhaegal’s eyes already, but both of them were always busy before now. They both looked at the world with purpose.

This is the first time Jon simply looks.

Daenerys was right. Dragons can show you the world as you’ve never seen it before.

They open their mouth, stretch out their tongue and breath in deeply to let their Jon see the world even better, very pleased with themselves for making their Jon happy. And they like experiencing the world through their Jon’s senses as well. Their Jon makes the world seem so big and so small at the same time, so connected and so isolated. So quiet and so loud. The contradiction is fascinating.

So Rhaegal truly can’t see through Daenerys’ senses like this? Not completely, that Jon knew. But not even a little?

They feel Mother like they feel their Brothers. They share the touch they wish to share.

They can’t share their other senses like they can with their Jon. Neither can they become their Brothers and Mother.

Why doesn’t Rhaegal find their connection odd?

Jon is a strange Fire. It makes sense for their bond to be strange as well. And they like it a _lot_. They aren’t just touching their Jon, they are their Jon. It’s wonderful.

Now if only being them would stop harming their Jon when they’re near. Being this far away makes their Jon feel faint, despite part of him being with them at the same time. They want to be closer to him.

Rhaegal is greedy.

They want what they want, and what they want is never too much.

The shepherd, singular or plural, whose means of living they just ate would disagree with that. Jon refocuses on what needs to be done.They look around again for their Jon.

Jon can see what Rhaegal knows to be mountains in the distance, but it’s both impossible to recognize which mountains they are or to estimate the distance to them. He can scent whispers of rivers, but Rhaegal is once again incapable of estimating the distance to them. Rhaegal is awful at estimating distance, only knowing they would soon reach it as they would soon reach anything. Which would pose a difficulty even had Jon been able to recognize any landmarks. He can’t even see The Wall to orientate himself. Rhaegal can taste hints of The Wall’s magic and see the horizon being covered by a net of power, but The Wall itself isn’t visible. Jon can't quite remember how far away Rhaegal is either, despite knowing exactly where Rhaegal was when he was awake.

If Rhaegal can’t see The Wall, they covered a lot of ground.

Not really. They stopped hurrying when they stopped harming their Jon. That made them even slower than their harm alone would cause.

Good. Jon doesn’t want them to cause permanent injury to themselves.

They are Fire. Fire always recovers in full. They also recover better when sleeping. They were just about to do that when their Jon joined them.

So go to sleep.

Alright.

Jon’s eyes fly open and he’s barely in time to throw up on the floor instead of choking on it and they thought they were no longer harming their Jon but they are and they need to wake up _now_.

Rhaegal’s mind leaves his own. Jon tries to catch his breath and think over the agony of his hands as Ash helps him settle back down the bed.

“Have I mentioned how awful a patient you are?” Ash snaps while laying a blessedly cool hand down his forehead.

“It’s been a while,” Jon returns in a rough voice. Ash lets out a harsh sigh, but he loses some of his tension.

“At least your fever’s gone down. It grew while you were sleeping,” he explains in response to Jon’s confused look.

Jon grimaces as he realizes he has a problem. His fever grew because his mind rejoined Rhaegal’s. If that happens every time he goes to sleep...

But Rhaegal is moving further away. Hopefully that will prevent Jon from rejoining him when he sleeps.

Drogon lets out a demanding rumble, making Jon realize they’re looking through the window instead of warming the room. Though the temperature reveals they only just stopped doing so. While they don’t look worried, they are looking him over intently.

“I’m fine now,” Jon tells them. Not a lie, compared to when he first arrived, he’s fine now.

“You really aren’t,” Ash says viciously, but he seems more resigned than anything else. Jon is more focused on Daenerys, though.

She still hasn’t woken up. And while her lips are no longer quite so blue, she’s still deathly pale.

The gold was taken out of her hair, but it hasn’t been properly brushed. Daenerys would hate that.

“How is Daenerys?” he asks. Then he realizes he forgot to specify who he was asking.

He gets answers from everyone he wanted. Drogon lets out a rumble as derisive as it is reassuring, while Ash and Noa grimace.

“She isn’t getting worse,” Ash says in a barely audible voice while giving Drogon a fearful glance. Ash speaking up makes Drogon focus on him. But Ash relaxes when Drogon doesn’t react to his words beyond that, and when Ash doesn't say anything more, Drogon stops listening to him. Jon feels himself relax a little as well. Given Daenerys’ condition, not getting worse is some of the best news possible.

“Rhaegal ate a flock of goats,” he tells Drogon, figuring Drogon would want to know that. He’s right, even without being able to see most of Drogon because of the window, it’s clear that Drogon turns deeply relieved. They cover the window with their mouth again and resume warming the room.

“Ash, I have a problem,” Jon tells him, before explaining that his fever is being caused by his connection to Rhaegal. Ash shakes his head with equal frustration and exasperation.

“Only you, Snow. Only you.”

Jon has missed being among his Brothers. Even after being made Lord Commander, they still treated him as one of their own. It’s a relief to see that being made King in the North hasn’t changed that.

Ash dips a cloth in water and lays the blessedly cool cloth down his forehead. The previous one, Jon discovers, was thrown off when he threw up. Ash also helps him rinse his mouth with water, his hands making the task impossible without aid, and then Ash feeds him porridge. Jon needs something in his stomach before he can be given further medicine.

The porridge is almost edible. Jon must be in a really bad state if his Brothers went through the trouble of trying to create real food.

When Edd returns, Jon informs him of the issue between him and Rhaegal. Edd curses him out before bemoaning his lot in life as only Edd can. Then he suggest they send Drogon after Rhaegal to tell them to go further away. Jon tells him that won’t be necessary, Rhaegal is already moving further away. And Drogon won’t leave Daenerys. Not unless Rhaegal or Viserion are here to look after her instead.

Which reminds him.

“Viserion is on his way here.”

“Of course he is,” Edd says with tired resignation. Then he gives him a hard look. “There’s only three of them, right? No fourth Dragon popping up out of nowhere?”

“There’s only three of them,” Jon confirms. He could have pointed out the stories about Daenerys all mention three Dragons, but he figures that isn’t what Edd needs to hear right now. Jon kind of dropped all of this on Edd out of nowhere.

Edd asks when Viserion is arriving, but Jon has no idea. Five hours at the absolute most from the moment Daenerys was hurt, but Jon has no idea how much time has passed since then. And that’s a very conservative estimate. Viserion is the fastest among their brothers, and Daenerys being hurt will make them use their speed to the fullest. Viserion hasn’t passed Rhaegal yet though, so Jon supposes they have at least half an hour left. Which he informs Edd of.

Edd is so tired with this whole mess he doesn’t even insult him, just lets out a sigh that asks the gods why they love to torment him so.

After Edd leaves to go prepare for Viserion’s arrival, Jon starts falling asleep. Ash keeps him awake until someone arrives to keep an eye on his temperature and wake him up if it gets too bad. Noa is busy monitoring Daenerys, and Ash is dividing his attention between both him and Daenerys.

The person who will monitor him turns out to be Laeric. Jon would have liked to listen to Laeric's jokes, Laeric is great at those, but sleep is impossible to resist. This time Jon is allowed to fall asleep.

Rhaegal is flying. And they’re hurting.

They don’t care about their pain. What they care about is no longer harming their Jon.

Laeric is watching over him. He’ll wake him up if it gets too bad.

That’s good, but it isn’t good enough. They need to stop harming their Jon.

Jon supposes that means Rhaegal needs to keep putting distance between them. Or is there another way to untangle their minds?

No. They’ve Chosen their Jon, and that is a Choice that can never be undone. Even distance can’t separate them completely.

They’d separate completely if their Jon Rejects them.

Except how can Jon reject Rhaegal when being with them is everything he didn’t know he longed for? When it brings him a peace he can’t ever remember feeling, when it warms him as not even Arya can.

How can he reject Rhaegal when for the first time since being brought back, Jon no longer fears dying? He doesn’t want to die, wants it less than he ever has in fact. But he no longer fears it. No longer fears returning to the abyss that terrifies him as not even the Night King does, the nothingness his mind shies away from even in the worst of his night terrors.

He doesn’t fear returning to the dark when surrounded by the endless fire that is Rhaegal.

Their Jon _died?_ That’s impossible, their Jon can’t die and so he won’t. Except somehow he did. Somehow he died before.

Their Jon came back. And they will _never_ allow him to die again.

They will burn down the world to keep him alive.

Jon would greatly appreciate it if Rhaegal didn’t do that. He likes the world.

Then their Jon should make sure they don’t need to do that.

If it makes Rhaegal feel any better, Jon has a habit of surviving things that should kill him.

Of course their Jon survives whatever obstacle he faces. Their Jon is Fire. He can’t die and so he won’t.

It’s rather amusing how Rhaegal sees no contraction between this certainty and their true acceptance of the fact Jon once died.

Their Jon died before, he isn’t dying now. And they’re going to make sure things remain that way.

Jon remains with Rhaegal, though it’s impossible to say for how long. All he knows is the wonder of flying with wings of his own, of feeling the wind caressing them as though it never wishes them to leave. Of feeling more at peace than he ever has.

It feels like being home.

They are home. The sky is where they belong.

And Jon wouldn’t have it any other way.

When he’s woken up by Laeric, he learns his fever rose again. This time it doesn’t lower as much as it did before. Jon feels true worry start to rise. Rhaegal is determined to stop harming him, will do whatever it takes to ensure that. But what if they can’t? What if their connection keeps making him sick? What if he’s only going to get worse?

What will Rhaegal do should he die?

**Author's Note:**

> For those interested, [this](https://loekas.tumblr.com/post/174530151472/a-storm-in-the-north-that-is-a-dragon-or-what-if/) is what I imagine pirate!Daenerys to look like. When she's wearing a coat, at least x3
> 
> Kudos and comments always brighten my day. So do likes and reblogs of [this fic](https://loekas.tumblr.com/post/174530151472/a-storm-in-the-north-that-is-a-dragon-or-what-if/) on tumblr :)
> 
> My [tumblr](https://loekas.tumblr.com/)


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